


Apocalypse State of Mind

by WolfPrincessSarah



Series: AI Verse - Louve [1]
Category: Original Work, RWBY
Genre: Abyssal Infinitum Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant Up To s5e10, Constructed Language, Depictions of the Irish in a Kinda Stereotypical but Affectionate and Mostly Researched Way, Engineering Shenanigans, Expanded Universe, Faunus Racism, Female Protagonist, Gen, Gratuitous Technology Porn, Ontological Inertia is a bitch, Playing fast and loose with both scientific knowledge and RWBY canon, Power Armor, Shared Universe, So much background research please kill me, Story Arc, Technobabble, This is my first long-form story be patient with me pls, Tons of Explosions, Underpowered protagonist, Worldbuilding, gratuitous fan wank, possibly insane author, protagonist is a feral bastard but at least she's nice, ragtag band of misfits, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfPrincessSarah/pseuds/WolfPrincessSarah
Summary: Sporadic updates, to getBefore the Whims of Fate's timeline caught up."What if all my talk about my weak Aura is just that—talk—and I really am nothing more than a delinquent lost cause?"Not everybody is born into great legacies and has innate talents to fight back against the Grimm. Some have to fight for every inch of territory they gain in life.This is the story of one Louve Lavender Hyacinth, a Wolf Faunus who craves to be a Huntress, and yet has many disadvantages holding her back, including a highly stunted Aura. A gifted engineer, she turns to the light of technology to tinker, craft and forge her way forward, building a suit of Dust armor that would help her overcome her innate disadvantages.Along the way, she finds allies like her, also each from sordid backgrounds themselves. Among them is her leader-Verdant Poultice, a mysterious herbalist from beyond the walls of Vale, as well as Tilly Primrose, the heiress to the infamous Primrose Syndicate and Inigo Hellebore, her strange mute bodyguard. Together, they form Team VILT, the Black Knights.
Series: AI Verse - Louve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963294
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. The Cheater, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Other stories that happen during the same time period this story is set in: 
> 
> Main Story, following the Canon Characters: [_Before the Whims of Fate_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930071/chapters/65721754)  
>  Sarah's story: [_While We Fall_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460455/chapters/53668210) (OC Story)
> 
> [Click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/51279571) for an in-universe encyclopedia with various informational entries related to the overall universe, but beware of spoilers for these stories.
> 
> For all stories and bonus content in this shared universe, please see [this tag](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Abyssal%20Infinitum%20Universe).

Louve's consciousness returned in a sharp gasp of fresh air. The sensations of her body hit her mind again, and she got a distinct sensation telling her that she was seated, but hunched over. Her face felt something cold and smooth pressed up against it. _Metal, maybe?_

Her fluffy, wolf-like ears twitched as she opened her eyes to inspect her surroundings, only to be blinded for her troubles.

She instinctively tried to pull her arms towards her head to protect her tender eyes, but was only rewarded with a sudden resistance and the clattering of chains. She blinked and looked forward as she adjusted to the bright light.

The poor girl could see she was chained to the table that she had awoken drooling on. Her suspicions kicked in and she tested her legs, shaking them, hearing the same clattering and resistance.

A distinct, animalistic snarling erupted from her lips. The last thing a human would want to do if you want to keep a Faunus on their good side is chain them up, but these people, clearly they didn't get the memo.

She did not recall exactly how she ended up in this position.

No, Louve remembered now.

A surge of memories flowed into her head—she must have been knocked unconscious by that electrical shock she took at the end of that duel.

She still lost, but only barely, which was a lot better than she usually did. She sighed and blinked, raising herself up off the table, as much her fetters would allow.

Louve interrogated her mind, looking for answers as to how she got here and where she was, but those memories were lost to her - or maybe they didn't exist.

Louve's hazel eyes flitted around the room as she tried to get a feel for where she was, and more importantly, a way to get out. It looked—and smelled—like your standard interrogation cell; of mildew and swamp-rot. She heard some dripping pipes behind her. Apart from the spotlight and the table, and the two chairs pushed up against it (one of which occupied by her), she couldn't see much around her.

Eventually her eyes were drawn up to the left corner of the room, where she saw pretty much what she expected—a slowly blinking red light, surrounded by darkness.

Possessed of a sudden teenage rebelliousness and a disdain for her current situation, she stuck her tongue out at it crudely.

◁☽⃟☾▷

Hours passed. Louve's stomach started to rumble, and she remembered she hadn't had anything to eat for, well, she wasn't quite sure how long.

There weren't any windows, preventing her from seeing the cracks of light that signaled the dawn or the moonlit, starry sky she loved so much, so she couldn't get a feel for how long it had been.

Louve's duel took place in the early afternoon, and she imagined it had been at least 4 hours since then, maybe more. Her focus wavered as exhaustion started to set in. She forced her eyes open, and kept her mind occupied by imagining some new gadget.

In her mind, she visualized all the details—Dust cartridge there, reciprocating action, linear actuators to shift into its ranged form. By the time she'd taken two breaths, an entire picture of an electrified revolver-halberd had formed in her head—complete down to the tiniest lag bolt. Actual dimensioning could come later if she wanted, but the hard work was already done.

In the darkness, she heard muffled voices coming from behind a wall in front of her. Her focus wavered again, and the vision in her mind slipped away quicker than it appeared, causing the young engineer to let out a frustrated sigh.

She focused her radar dome ears to listen in on the words, as if to identify the threat they posed. She could clearly identify a feminine contralto, and a male voice, given a sharp echo by the hallway beyond. The restrained Faunus wasn't sure if they sounded like local police or not.

Eventually, the sound of metal sliding against metal erupted in the darkness beyond, and a light grew to fill the room.

Through it stepped an ivory-skinned man with pure white hair. He had rounded glasses perched atop his chiseled nose, and a green waistcoat that flowed behind him elegantly with every step. He eventually locked eyes with the Faunus prisoner and approached the empty chair in front of her.

"Miss, ah, Hyacinth, is it? I was held up by a prior commitment."

He held out his hand to the restrained war dog, as if offering a handshake. She said nothing, but made a shrugging motion with her fettered hands instead.

"Ah, yes. Of course. My apologies."

The ghostly man unbuttoned his coat, took the metal seat in front of her, reached into his waist coat and pulled out a silver handcuff key, sliding it across the table. Surprised and a little happy at the sudden olive branch, the wolf girl immediately set to work freeing herself, starting with her hands.

"I'm sure you're quite relieved to maybe put all of this behind you, but before you run off… I'd like to discuss something with you. An opportunity, of sorts."

Louve sneered. "I know not who you are or what you are selling, but I am not buying it."

She immediately set back to work removing her ankle fetters, muttering a phrase in _Hijiko_ under her breath. 

"Ya nibakun do'niai ashi." _You stupid un-eyed outsider._

Ozpin was quiet for a moment, but then replied to the wolfgirl's unfair assertion, in her own native language.

"Wa'li otfalas, ya'antum do'niai. Wa'antum dun'ashi." _My dear girl, it is you that is un-eyed. I am no outsider._

At this, Louve poked out from above the table again.

"Yataqo chisifi ni'Hijiko?"

"Yes, I know your language, Ms. Hyacinth. I know many languages of Remnant. Though, I must admit that _Hijiko_ isn't my strongest Faunus dialect. I may embarrass myself if we keep talking in it. Would it be alright if we continued in Valen?"

Louve nodded, relaxing slightly.

_This man is no average human._

"Anyway, I'm not here to sell anything. You've been suspended from Emerald Academy, young miss. Something about cheating with advanced Dust technology? I'm sure your parents would be most disappointed if they found out."

"So blackmail?"

"Oh, nothing so craven. There are no threats here, Miss Hyacinth. I'm here to make you an offer, nothing more. Why did you put so much effort into just winning this one fight?"

The Faunus girl scoffed as she crossed her arms. She leaned back in her chair, propping a single foot on the table, covered in a heavy combat boot. The headmaster shot her a disapproving glare from where he sat.

"So make your offer, then. So I can turn it down and go back home."

"As I said, you were expelled from your Combat School earlier today, for cheating-"

Louve flattened her ears and interrupted Ozpin.

"I _was not_ cheating. I was making it a fair fight."

"While there hasn't been a real need to enforce this particular rule in a very long time, the letter of it is quite clear."

The man went on to quote the relevant section in a more stern tone of voice, if that was even possible.

"'All combat school students must rely entirely on their registered weapon or weapons of choice, and their Aura in school-sanctioned sparring matches. Any equipment or gear brought into the designated arena that is not approved by the school and/or local Huntsman office beforehand is considered contraband, and therefore academically dishonest to possess in the Arena.' In other words, Miss Hyacinth - you _were_ cheating."

A soft feral growl left her lips, but the man was unphased.

"That being said, I am curious why you felt the need to even do so. Constructing an Atlesian energy projection matrix is no small task, especially one that can be worn by an individual without it encumbering them significantly. If you were intending to cheat in a duel, there are much easier and more subtle ways of doing so."

"So I'll ask you again, why did you put so much effort into winning this one fight? Was it personal? Did this—"

Ozpin checked the stack of papers before him for the name of Louve's opponent in the duel.

"—Tilly Primrose, did she upset you? Or was it just genuine ambition that made you do it?"

A soft growl erupted into a vicious roar as Louve slammed her fists on the table, her prior calm leaving her entirely. 

"I didn't cheat!"

If the wolfgirl had had her Aura up, she might have dented the thick steel in her rage. Instead, the metal rebelled at her impact, leaving the underside of her fists red and stinging from the sudden attempt to damage an immovable object. Grabbing her left wrist and letting out a tiny gasp at the pain, she decided to calm down before making even more of a scene of things.

Her hazel eyes slammed shut as she took a breath, relaxing herself, and still smarting from the self-inflicted pain.

"As I said. I was making it a fair fight."

"Why didn't you just rely on your Aura, then?"

 _"Because."_ Louve intoned angrily.

"I have no Aura to use. No matter how much I try, no matter how much I fight. No matter what I do, my Aura strength never cracks 2. Most of the time, it's at 1. As you very well know, most Huntsman trainees have at least 10 when they start Combat School, and by my year, they're usually running at least 15. Some clock in at 20! I heard about this girl who just graduated from Signal, she left with like _30_!"

Louve's ears flattened sadly as she slumped back into her chair.

"I am shamefully weak. I _want_ to fight, I _can_ fight, but my Aura makes me only barely tougher than a human with no Aura at all. Sure, it enhances my blows, makes me stronger. Kinda protects my weapon too? Fuels my Semblance, if it can even really be called a Semblance. All that, but only for a fraction of the time as others, before the fight's kicked out of me."

"I see. So, held back by your body, you chose to think your way past your limitations?"

Louve shrugged. "Every Huntsman builds their own weapon, right?"

"Well, not all of them. Some inherit them. Others have weapons forged for them. It's not exactly a rule. The students at Signal do learn to forge their own weapons, however."

The old man looked to the side wistfully before getting back on track.

"But more to the point—so, yours is this well, for lack of a better word, armor?"

"Well, I also have a collapsing staff. But yes."

"It's really quite impressive, actually. Clearly based on Atlesian technology, but more improvisational. As if you didn't quite have the whole picture, or sufficient resources."

"How can you tell?"

"Oh, I've seen a few things in my time. Done quite a lot of traveling. Known a few engineers in my time, seen their work. You could say I've picked up a thing or two in my long life."

Louve paused for a moment, before asking the first question that came to mind.

"What did you say your name was?"

"My name is Professor Ozpin. I'm the headmaster of Beacon Academy."

He feigned what little of a bow he could manage from where he was sitting.

The gears started turning in Louve's mind as she remembers what little she knew about this man. Lifelong Huntsman, but nobody really knows where he came from. Earned his position at a very young age. Far too young, and Louve felt there was something suspicious about that. But for now, she set her paranoia aside and put her mind back to her present predicament as Ozpin spoke up to her again.

"Only Atlas has managed to create personal shields like these, and they're still in the field-testing stage. I'm curious how yours works. Care to tell me about it?"

"I can tell you what is _obvious_ and any engineer worth their salt would know. It uses Dust to produce effects on demand, with a belt-mounted computer that controls the projector nodes. Though, it has limitations. The energy transfer system is not, uhm, _perfect_. After running out of power for the big guy, I think I got a nasty shock. My Aura could take it, but it still hurt, and I think it knocked me out. Gonna look into maybe fixing that later, probably."

"Thank you, I believe I understand you a great deal more now."

Ozpin poked his falling eyeglasses back further onto his nose before changing the subject.

"You were still about a year out from qualifying for Beacon, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was. I guess that is not happening now."

"It doesn't necessarily need to be lost to you forever. You're not the first girl from a combat school I've met today who's gotten into a bit of trouble. Girl not any older than you, actually. Had an _impressive_ sweet tooth. I don't believe I've seen anyone eat that many cookies in a single sitting."

"I like you, Miss Hyacinth. There's something about you - I saw it earlier today in that girl too, even if your expression of it is definitely more colorful than hers, to say the least. And since I'm already in a generous mood, I'm willing to offer you a deal."

"Please get to the point, Professor."

Ozpin inwardly sighed, exasperated by the disrespectful and overly suspicious teen. If she ends up accepting his offer, he might have to put in extra effort to break her of that.

"Your cuffs are all unlocked, and the door is open."

He gestured to the inviting hallway behind him.

"The only reason you're still here, young miss, is that despite your vitriol, you're secretly wanting a second chance. Despite my better judgement, as well as the advice of my colleague, I'm willing to give you it."

"You are seriously not suggesting what I think you are suggesting." 

Ozpin nodded. "If what you thought I was suggesting is that I was about to offer you early admittance to Beacon Academy, then you would be correct. Of course, there are some conditions, in your case."

"One, you do everything the _right_ way. You _must_ submit the complete technical specifications of your new weapon to the Huntsman office and get it registered to you. I'll see about expediting the approval process, but I won't—and can't—protect you in duels if the rules aren't followed. Two, you only get _one_ second chance. I catch you breaking the rules again, and you're out, no questions asked."

Ozpin leaned back, sensing the girl's apprehension and general distrust of authority, and decided to be slightly more casual.

"Listen, assuming what you've told me is the truth, I don't anticipate there will be any problems. These restrictions are mostly on paper to justify me giving you this chance. If you stick to the rules - and pass initiation, of course - you're in. After the first semester of good behavior, the probationary period will be lifted, though you'll still have to follow the rules. Tiny infractions won't get you instantly kicked out after that, though."

"What makes you so confident that I will not betray your trust? What if all my talk about my weak Aura is just that - talk - and I really _am_ nothing more than a delinquent lost cause?"

"I was still considering that possibility, and frankly, it's not off the table. But since I've been explaining the terms, your ears haven't flattened or turned away from me _once_. You're listening to every word I say. Intently, enthusiastically, even."

"Yeah, I guess you got me there." Louve said, quietly cursing her traitorous ears.

Recovering, the wolf girl brushed a rogue lavender strand of her otherwise dark and barely-combed mane out of her face before leaning forward, uncharacteristically putting on her best wolfish grin and looking Ozpin deep in his eyes.

"So, where did you say I had to send those specifications?"

The old man said nothing, but instead matched her expression and leaned forward, almost accepting her primal challenge.

Before then, the feral girl had never met anyone who could best her smile in sheer grim smugness, or her eyes in haunting deepness of glare.

Ozpin's cold blue eyes pierced well past her mental guards, and Louve found herself lost in their abyssal depths.

Now Louve knew what it was like to be subjected to her own haunting gaze, and she felt an oddly familiar chill resonate outwards from somewhere deep within her.


	2. The Cheater, Part 2

A breath, a few words, and a handshake later, Louve was left out in the hall of the police station, alone again. Though she'd accepted the deal, she fretted about how unhappy she appeared to the… to her new headmaster.

Standing with her arms crossed, she leaned against a wall and sighed.

That deal he had made with her, it was everything she ever wanted. A chance to attend Beacon, to be a hero. She'd have been an absolute moron to pass it up, but yet, there she sat, her usual cold and suspicious self.

It's not like she didn't have a reason to be suspicious. How many humans had offered them their hand in friendship, only to betray her or use her?

Memories surged into her mind, reminding her why she's like this. Reminding her of of the times children her own age pulled on her ears, called her a 'mutt' and beat her down into the mud, and of the multiple occasions she'd come home with bruises and black eyes, but told her parents it was just her own clumsiness.

Louve quietly was sure her parents knew the truth—they weren't idiots, and they knew how much many humans hated them.

She remembered every time she'd gone hungry because her lunch money had been stolen. She felt their cruel eyes on her every day of her life—and to all, she had grown cold. Harsh, suspicious.

Even this most recent incident, how she ended up here, could probably be traced back to _what_ she was, and not _who_ she was.

Louve buried her face in her hands, flattened her ears against her head and inhaled anxiously.

This really was not the time to bemoan her species' plight. Time wasn't exactly on her side—Beacon's fall semester started in less than a week, and she had to go home, get her affairs in order.

She also had to work on her armor. The Energy Relays were out of alignment, and her field stability felt completely off in that fight. She felt the Collimator could also use some focusing too.

She had another idea that would give her an edge. On paper, her armor could do it, and she was planning on trying it out _eventually,_ but Beacon's initiation was notoriously hardcore and very sink-or-swim, so she'd need every edge she could get.

Louve's upper ears twitched as she remembered the fact that participating in tournaments and sparring matches was as mandatory there as it was at her old combat school.

Her armor isn't Aura, and the referees can't monitor blows that hit something that isn't Aura.

For one, Hard Light shields are pretty well hardened, and can take heartier individual blows than Aura alone can.

Technically, the shield was really no more durable than a standard (albeit experienced) Huntsman's Aura, but it reacted to blows very differently.

The difference was subtle, but enough that many humans would become suspicious, or even disqualify her.

She decided that would need fixing too.

At that last addition to her mental checklist, she let go of her face and started walking down the hallway to the front of the precinct, where the desk officer was sitting.

It's not like the place was particularly massive—just a tiny regional precinct.

A few brief seconds, and she had rounded a corner and come face-to-face with the desk officer.

Louve was pleased to see a short Faunus girl, much like her. Though, she was less wolf and more, well, deer. Cute little horns were perched on her head, and her brown eyes lit up happily as Louve approached.

"Looking to maybe get my impounded stuff back?" Louve asked.

"Name and ID number, sweetie?"

The horned girl, though the language she used was the common Valen, spoke in a relatively thick Faunus accent that Louve didn't recognize.

The Faunus did have their own languages, even if many of them ended up adopting the languages and accents of humans surrounding them over time. The many dialects and families confounded and frustrated any attempts at linguistic analysis.

Louve's family came from a clan in the Vacuan lowlands called the Hijimi, but their own ancient tongue, _Hijiko_ , had been mixed with Low Vacuan over time. Though now, Louve primarily spoke Valen. 

"Louve Hyacinth, ID number, D, erhm…" Louve trailed off.

After all this time, she didn't have her Vale ID number memorized. She shifted around, and pulled her wallet out of her jeans to double-check.

"'D' as in Dust, 'A' as in Atlas, one, one, three. 'N' as in Nevermore. 7. Then a hyphen. Then 'B' as in bullet. Six-four."

The deer girl asked Louve to hold out her ID to confirm, and she did so.

"Okay, looks like it's all in order. Just four items, does that sound about right?"

Louve took an internal inventory, idly feeling around her body even if she didn't need to do so.

While she was still wearing the outfit she was arrested in—consisting of a lavender zip-up hoodie, a black long-sleeve t-shirt, blue jeans, and black combat boots—she figured that she was missing her bandolier, her staff, her armor, and her coat.

Louve then looked back to the desk officer and nodded.

The deer lady picked herself up off her desk and almost skipped off to the backroom to retrieve the gear. Louve couldn't help but idly crack a smile at how happy the officer looked.

Tough to be perky in a job like this, she figured.

After a moment, she'd walked back, straining under a heavy quartz-colored box marked 'HIGH SECURITY IMPOUND' in jet-black spray paint.

The deer girl slapped it down on her side of the desk, yanked the lid off, and pulled a form off the top of the stack of gear that had been thrown in rather haphazardly, almost as an afterthought.

She clapped the form to a clipboard she had tucked away out of sight, and started running down the list.

"Alright, here we go. One belted bandolier made of black leather, with a silver buckle. Pouches filled with 'utility items', including hand tools, vials of common powdered Dust, safety goggles, first aid supplies, 'unknown other doodads, probably spare parts or someth'- jeez, the officer who impounded this stuff was an idiot. And cotton balls, of all things. I'll skip over the section titled 'sanitary products', for your privacy. You can read it yourself though, if you feel something's missing from there."

The desk officer looked up from the clipboard and looked at the stolid wolf-girl before her, a little confused. "Hang on, aren't Huntresses supposed to carry, y'know, more destructive stuff?"

Louve simply shrugged. The desk clerk slid the belt across the desk to her. The paranoid wolf girl proceeded to check every pocket to ensure nothing was disturbed, much to the desk officer's mild amusement. After a moment, Louve was satisfied and happily looped it around her shoulders, adjusted it slightly, and then buckled it in place. This was followed by her securing the bandolier's connected belt to her waist.

"What's next? One collapsible quarterstaff, Huntsman grade alloy, unknown manufacturer. Given what I know about Huntresses, you probably built it yourself?"

Louve nodded as she was handed an arm-length ebony rod, with a carabiner attached on one of its ends.

She held it in her hands wistfully for a moment, feeling the well-balanced weapon in her hand, before slipping it onto a dedicated loop on her bandolier, near her waist.

The weight of the collapsed staff was comforting to her, and she felt her anxiety lessen now that she was armed.

"One metal suitcase. Also Huntsman grade alloy. Unknown origin and purpose."

The desk officer set the clipboard to the side, and retrieved a rectangular black box, about as large as a briefcase, and similarly shaped, to the point of it even having a single tubular handle on one side for easily carrying it when not in use.

Though, it was much heavier than a common briefcase—someone without any Aura wouldn't be able to comfortably lift it for very long.

The officer groaned under its weight and almost dropped it on Louve's side of the counter. 

"Wow, that thing's _really_ heavy. What's in there?" The officer cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Nothing." Louve flatly stated, "It is not a suitcase, it is armor."

The wolf girl channeled light purple energy from her meager Aura into the brick, and the box emitted a soft click as two ebony handles engaged from the top of its mass, then started humming, priming it's Dust energy projectors.

All the girl would need to do is just clasp her hands around the handles and the armor would do the rest - in a most spectacular fashion. 

Louve usually wouldn't think twice of showing off, but after considering the attention she'd already drawn to herself, she just sighed and channeled some more Aura back into it, forcing the handles to retract.

The armor immediately went back into hibernation, its energy harmonics blending into the background noise of the room.

The deer girl just sighed. "Huntsmen…"

After this, the desk officer pulled a black leather motorcycle jacket with a long-faded SDC logo on it from the box, sliding it over wordlessly to Louve.

She took the coat and started pulling it over her hoodie, but the desk officer interrupted.

"You might want to put that hood of yours up, as well. It's raining. Also, that Professor left a message for you."

"Yes?" Louve asked.

"He said, 'Keep your head down, Miss Hyacinth.' I imagine it's a warning?"

Louve scoffed as she slipped a lavender hood over her ears.

"That is all I have always done."

◁☽⃟☾▷

By the time she had stepped out into the rain, Ozpin's last message was weighing heavily on her. This wasn't the first time somebody had told her to keep her head down, and if she was honest, it was growing old.

She thought of her father, Sterling, who had a silvery fox tail growing out from the small of his back, just above his rump.

She thought of her mother, Murciana, who had the largest goat horns you can imagine. Faunus look _mostly_ human, but it doesn't take a lot for humans to have an excuse to hate someone.

She and her family were second class citizens in most places, and for the most part, they didn't deserve it.

When a human sees Louve, their first look isn't at her eyes, but her ears. As soon as a human sees them, they're like a bright orange sign that gives them an excuse to treat her like dirt.

Louve looked up into the darkened, storm-wrought sky and remembered the day she stopped trying to hide what she was.

She stopped wearing hats to hide her ears and started smiling, baring her fangs more.

Predictably, she just got bullied even worse for it, but there was a helpful phrase that bounced around in her head back then. 

"Never forget what you are. The world will not. So wear it like armor, that it may be never used to hurt you."

Something like that, at least. She couldn't remember where she first heard it, only that it was said by a wise and rather diminutive man.

The chill of the rain got to her, and she tucked her arms in to conserve her body's precious heat.

The police didn't exactly see to feeding her while she had been chained up like an animal. And the day before, she hadn't eaten anything, as she had been far too nervous for her sparring match.

 _I'm cold. I'm hungry. I just want to go home,_ Louve thought.

She felt there was really only one way to distract herself from her failures today, and reached into the fourth pouch on her chest bandolier, retrieving her Scroll.

It was a broken down older model, with no CCT connection and no way to 'roll up' like the newer ones had, but Louve was still able to load data onto it from her family's home terminal.

Music to her, was an important coping mechanism, though a rather tedious one to use without a CCT link.

She loaded up her playlist—the first one on the list was one of Apathy's hardest-hitting songs, [ The Night ](https://open.spotify.com/track/4pADXqX5x76fDS8RmyvgwO?si=BsopzngCSw-vZqRupLzvJA)—and used the music to keep herself awake and sane, allowing her to mostly ignore the empty agony in her stomach.

◁☽⃟☾▷

Louve kept going, and it felt like every step reminded her of where humans felt she belonged in this world. For such a 'progressive' and 'enlightened' place, Vale still had no shortage of bigots.

Even though barring Faunus from owning property and marrying humans was outlawed a long time ago, at least on paper, many establishments still openly posted signs that said "No Faunus". 

The rain lightened up about midway through her walk, and the wolf girl looked up to be greeted with something that felt like an old friend, Remnant's shattered moon.

With no prejudicial humans walking about, the Faunus who took the night shift or just happened to be out at night could feel free to be themselves.

Louve wasn't normally a 'night shift' Faunus, which is what most people called the nocturnal ones in polite company.

Most cat Faunus, for instance, were naturally nocturnal, though they could adapt to daytime living better than most. The bat Faunus are some of those who struggled the most. Louve did still envy them somewhat.

_Daytime living is overrated._

After walking by about four homes, she arrived at a more familiar one—the one bright place in this world where she felt she belonged.

It was late. Her parents had likely long since gone to bed, though that's assuming they hadn't been fretting over her all day and she was going to be grounded for life when she stepped across the threshold.

Louve noticed that the porch light was on, creating an oasis of light in a desert of shadow. The nervous wolf girl gulped, softly sighed and ascended the steps, ready to take whatever came.

They creaked with each stride, as she slowly reached into her skirt pocket and retrieved a set of keys, the activity of which created an audible clattering in the otherwise silent night.

She fumbled considerably in her attempts to unlock the door, her nerves getting the better of her. 

Finally, the right key found purchase in the doorknob's keyhole, and she rotated it; only to be pulled through when somebody on the other side yanked the door open.

Before the sensation of movement hit her mind, she had fallen inwards into the maternal embrace of a slightly curvaceous older woman, more than twice her age.

The woman took Louve's breath away with a poorly-timed, extremely tight, and very harried embrace.

"Allbeon! O'nahku ya ka? Wataqo almard ya'nos!" Her mother said in her family's native _Hijiko._ It meant about one would expect from a concerned mother of any species _—where have you been, I have been worried sick over you._

The first word out of her mother's mouth, however, was Louve's birth name, a proud and ancient Hijiman name.

When her family had originally moved to Mantle, Louve's family all changed their names to fit in better. Even here in Vale, Murciana Hyacinth still had a habit of calling her daughter by her birth name.

"Hi, mom." Louve replied in Vacuan, returning the embrace.

◁☽⃟☾▷

A moment later, she had been swept up out of the cold, and had her hair and ears padded down with a fluffy towel, much to her consternation.

She felt like a mangy stray her mom had found out in an alley somewhere, and while she knew better, that wasn't _too_ removed from the truth.

She didn't interrogate Louve as much as she anticipated she would, but Louve silently knew that part was probably coming, as soon as her mother was done doting over her.

Evidently, her mother had made one of her favorite meals, Vacuan Tagwood Bean Casserole, earlier, though it had long since grown cold and relatively stale.

What leftovers that Louve could be served, she could hardly complain over, in her exhausted and starved state.

The wolf girl ate the reheated meal with extraordinary gusto and only barely tamed table manners—just happy to be home and fed, really.

She had just started horking down her second plate of the hearty mix when her mother broke the silence and finally addressed the elephant in the room, in the family's native _Hijiko._

"Sweetie, I'm glad you're safe, but where have you been all evening? After school, you didn't show when I swung by to pick you up. I panicked, and about called your dad out of work. You had me worried _so much._ If you were going to be late, why could you not just find a phone and call? Your mother is so frightful when it comes to you."

Louve swallowed the current bundle of cheese-drenched pasta that had most recently entered her mouth, knowing her mother was expecting an immediate answer.

She dropped her utensil onto her plate with a soft clatter, hunger pains defeated, for the moment. Her fluffy ears swiveled towards her mother as she gave her her full attention.

"I, ah. Well, I have uhm, kind of big news," she began, idly tapping her index fingers together in apprehension.

"It all started with my sparring match, earlier…"

Louve went on to weave a believable story, placing _just_ enough truth in it to sell it. She told her mother all about how she had won the fight against her _terrible, bigoted_ and _uncultured_ rival who was a year ahead of her, using nothing more than her trusty staff and her bandolier of gizmos.

Louve told her all about how Ozpin was at the stadium, scouting out for new talent to add to his school, and how he saw how well she did during the fight and chose to invite her to attend Beacon Academy in a week's time!

She was less impressed than Louve thought she would have been.

"Young lady, that is quite an impressive story. And also a massive load of Grimm droppings."

 _Ara la,_ Louve thought to herself. _Oh no._

Her mother got up and went into the kitchen to get a glass of tea, still talking to Louve while she walked.

She paused at the threshold between the kitchen and the dining room, taking a sip of her tea. "You forgot, dear - your top ears twitch when you're lying. They didn't _stop_ twitching through that entire story. Also, while you were away and your father was looking for you, I heard from the school. Something about a suspension and you cheating?"

Louve gripped her furred ears tightly and whined, emotions chomping at the bit to be unleashed. Guilt welled up inside her, unwinding her dishonesty as shame took hold.

After a second, she calmed herself, figuring the truth was probably the better choice now. 

"Mom, I- I'm sorry. I just didn't want to disappoint you. You put your faith in me, and I tried _so_ hard, but I still came up short, so I _thought_ I could tinker my way forward. I hoped that maybe they would see how much work I put into it, and maybe-"

"Oh, honey…" Louve's mother walked back into the dining room and sat down in front of her. She leaned across and cupped her ivory face with a compassionate hand, wiping a tear away from the left side of her face in the process. "I _am_ disappointed you cheated, but I understand why you did it. From what you've told me before, that human probably deserved a good _thrashing._ "

She let out a cute little growl after that last word, eliciting a child-like giggle from Louve, before her composure returned and she got back to the topic at hand.

"I'm just more disappointed that you felt the need to lie to me about it."

Louve looked away for a moment, then nuzzled her mother's hand gently, relaxing a bit and closing her eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry, mom… But you should know I- I didn't cheat."

She cocked an intrigued eyebrow at this, finally realizing what her daughter had done, and why she'd done it.

It wasn't the first time she'd gotten in trouble at school, and while the soft goat Faunus didn't understand most of what her wolven daughter worked on in that shed out back, Murciana knew she was more dedicated to it she'd seen her daughter be about anything.

Now she understood why, at least a little bit.

"This armor you made, the one those school officials are saying was a cheat… it was because of your Aura, wasn't it?"

Louve nodded sadly, sniffling.

"Oh, my poor noble wolf…"

She ran her small hand through Louve's hair and affectionately scratched that one spot between her ears that was rarely touched, causing her normally stolid and brooding daughter to uncharacteristically close her eyes contentedly, smile and idly twitch her ears rapidly.

"Now, how about you tell me the real story now?"

◁☽⃟☾▷

Ironically, despite Louve's general dislike of being touched, she turned into complete putty in the hands of somebody that gave her physical affection like that, and her mother knew just how to press that particular button.

After she had told her mother the complete truth (though she was still a little skeptical about the Ozpin part and said she'd talk that over with her father), Louve asked her if she could head to the shed out back to work on something for Beacon.

Still understandably upset with her, and also wanting her daughter out of the way to process the story in peace, she agreed—though, on the implicit condition that outside of school, she was grounded for a month.

Behind the house was a rickety garden shed. No air conditioning, which made it hellish to bear in the summer, though Louve had added about four fans to ease the heat in that extreme scenario. 

No insulation either, though the cold didn't bother her as much. 

Louve swung her forge hammer down again. Sparks erupted from the iron casing resting on her homemade 'anvil', little more than a hunk of thick steel she'd found at a garbage dump that she'd strapped to a rickety assemblage of wood and scavenged lagbolts. 

Memories leaked their way into Louve's embattled mind. Remembrances of times when humans shunned her.

When she was metalworking, every strike, every spark, and every tap was forged in pain. Each blow brought down by the weight of her past. Sweat and soot covered her face in equal measure.

In the dim light of the shed, one could almost see a grief-stricken tear, though it was hard to pick out from the sweat.

The only thing she had always been good at is tinkering, forging.

Even her parents had learned that when she was really quite young. She tore down their Atlesian oven, looking at all the crystals, conduits, and circuitry, figuring out how they worked together.

After that incident, her parents went to various scrap yards on the weekends, dragging home discarded automatons, ruined Dust engines, and the like, to give their destructively inquisitive daughter an outlet for her urges.

They were surprised one day, when one of those engines started running again. 

Louve wiped the sweat off her brow and panted in the heavy heat of the shed. She normally wouldn't be able to tolerate such temperatures, but her tolerance was tempered by purpose - the shaped steel plate that she was working beneath her was the casing for what she called a 'tournament lock'. 

On paper, the design was simple, but really quite ingenious. The existing unsafe feedback from the unshielded Dust Energy Conduits would be filtered through a series of current dividers to make the shocks painful, but otherwise mostly harmless.

They would deplete her Aura as they get hit, but would still ensure she could stay in the fight as long as somebody with ten times her Aura.

Which, coincidentally, would technically bring her to the minimum level required for participating in major tournaments like the Vytal Festivalbut only just.

Normally the discharges are random, only sometimes jolting her, but as soon as the lock was put in place, she'd be made to feel every hit, as somebody with proper Aura would. Even if all the necessary paperwork was filed, her armor would still draw attention, and as a Faunus, that's the last thing Louve wanted.

Louve was aware that using this could still raise questions—people could call her a coward, or even still think that she had no place in the tournaments. She didn't care, though.

So long as she was never called a cheater again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Strike while the iron is still hot."  
> \-- Atlesian proverb


	3. The ͠Ironmǫn̵g͞e͘r̨

In a dream world forged in cold steel and the blood of savages, there was a city built on the water. It was said that this city was the most advanced in the world, that they functionally had no technological rivals.

Somewhere in that city—specifically where was irrelevant, for the city's prosperity was only matched by its sheer vastness—there was an exposition hall, and in the largest chamber, a middle-aged man addressed a mixed crowd.

Some of this enthralled mass wore uniforms representing particular government services, others wore simple suits. All of them wore some representation of a circular symbol, cut thrice into triangular pieces. The symbol of the Presperi Commonwealth.

"Power, control, dominance. I ask you, representatives of the Presperi Defense Commission and our great military-industrial complex, what do these things have in common?"

The speaker was a lanky, pale man dressed in a clean, perfectly pressed and perfectly tailored suit. On his lapel, he wore a golden pin with that same circular symbol.

His dark hair had a few greyed edges on it, the earliest sign of advancing age. Despite his age, his blue eyes betrayed little withering of strength.

This was Leonard Shaw, Chief Executive Officer of Shaw-Taggart Enterprises, the greatest weapons developer in the Presperi Commonwealth.

"Loyal ladies and gentlemen of the Tribunal, what they have in common is another very simple word - _security._ For our people, and for our great culture. For it is in our power that we hold back the savage hordes at our gates. It is the control we exercise, and how we exercise it, that keeps the primitive servants in line. And it is our dominance that will ensure our great nation and the glory of our race lasts for another thousand years."

The man adjusted his tie before continuing.

"Our mighty nation has been beset on all sides by savagery and degeneracy for its entire existence. We have stood, and we still stand, but our future is anything but guaranteed.

"Our barbarian cousins from the north still raid our vessels. Our old Alrian enemies to the west, despite their degenerate ways, still keep pace with our economic strength. As if that were not enough, the savage Maloysian Republics are resurgent. They have obtained Presperi weapons through a treasonous middleman and are now killing our peacekeepers in the occupied zones at an unacceptable rate.

"The other nations may have numberless hordes to throw at us, but Presperi does not. That is, at least, until now."

The stage lights dimmed as holographic projectors on the stage sprang to life and warmed up. Once the systems came online, where there once was empty space on the long, wide stage, there now were neon green-colored representations of over a dozen weaponized robots of varying sizes, each one bursting with more heavy armaments than the last.

The industrialist giving the presentation quietly cracked a smile in the darkness. He always enjoyed this part.

Create a threat, then offer the solution to the highest bidders. Of course, not all of what he said was a fiction. The _way_ he said it, that was the lie.

As well as something else, but that would have been _telling_.

A green spotlight came to life from the rafters far above him, and he dropped the smile. Time to get to work.

"We at Shaw-Taggart Enterprises have watched these threats accumulate, and fueled by our _patriotism_ and _pride_ , have been hard at work developing new ways to combat them. This is the Advanced Mechanized Warfare Program. Where recent advancements in automation and nanotech fabrication collide to make a secure future. A Presperi future.

"One where our children will take their rightful place as the masters of this world. 40 Presperi citizens and 60 servants have been involved at every stage of this early development process. Initial prototypes have been manufactured and mass-production lines have been designed and resource costs factored.

"All that is left is funding, and that is where you come in. With your financial support and your patriotism, combined with our ingenuity, we will ensure that the nation of Presper will not only survive the oncoming storm—we will _become_ the oncoming storm, and maintain our national security for the rest of time."

The man strolled through the various blueprints on the stage. The first one he stopped at was no larger than an exceptionally tall person and resembled the proverbial knight in shining armor, though its internals were anything but flesh and blood.

"First, we have the _Iron Legionnaire…_ No built-in armaments, but embedded with a highly intelligent class 4 AI, and capable of replacing the Presperan Legionnaires currently dying en masse on the front lines. No longer will Presperii lives be risked to ensure the security of our nation."

"Unfailingly loyal, strong and precise. These mechanical soldiers will ensure a Presperan future."

The green hologram clacked its heels together, then gave its best mimicry of standard salute of the Presperii army—its right arm tucked itself in towards its torso, then a steel fist clapped over its chest as a synthesized metallic clang echoed through the speakers.

The suited executive then gestured with his left hand to the rest of the much larger models on display.

"Of course, there will always be a time when sometimes a more pure approach is necessary, and that is why these larger models can either be remotely piloted _or_ set to automated attack protocols…"

◁◇⃟◇▷

A moment later, the ragged CEO pushed his way out of the conference hall's outer doors, to a waiting grav-car. Flanked on all sides by Tribunal-approved reporters and a few dissidents, the only thing keeping the technology magnate from the clamoring masses was his private security force.

Finally, he approached the car and was hustled in by his guards. The driver immediately set off, the gravitic repulsion systems kicking on and letting off a distinct high-voltage resonating sound in the vicinity.

The crowd almost instinctively cleared away, not wanting to be caught in an active gravitic field. As the car lifted off, Leonard turned towards his driver.

"Quite raucous today, aren't they?"

"Yes, sire." The man responded, unhelpfully.

"Well, do we know _why?"_

"It is not my place to speculate, sire."

Shaw noticed in the rear-view mirror that this vaguely brown-tinted fellow driving him had spots running down the side of his neck.

A burn scar on the back of his neck signified he was no ordinary Presperi civilian, and by the shape of it, Shaw recognized it as the slave brand of his own company. The latter fact mildly unnerved him.

"You're a demihuman. Triano subspecies, if I'm not mistaken. And you're also _not_ my regular driver. Where's Lian?" 

"Lian has Tapfish Fever, sire. I will be your pilot for the day." As an afterthought, he added, "Correct on the species, though I am surprised you call me 'demihuman'. Most of you Presperans call us 'abberants'."

"Or filth, mutants. Among other much more impolite terms. But you'll probably find me a bit more progressive, almost rebellious compared to my kin. What's your name, pilot?"

"A slave has no name besides our property code. Only indentured servants and citizens have names."

"As I very well know, but what of your name before you became… ours?" The magnate phrased this as delicately as possible.

"A slave has no name." the driver repeated, almost mechanically.

"A slave doesn't, but my _driver_ does. I like to at least know the _name_ of the person is responsible for my safety."

The spotted driver hesitated almost three heartbeats before replying.

"Cursai, sire. Cursai S'rahno."

"Pleasure to meet you, Cursai. You may address me as Eqs. Shaw."

"As you wish, Equites."

For several minutes, the drive was taken in silence, but the two occasionally exchanged glances. The brutalized slave was caught off-guard by the freeman's flippant disregard for the social protocol.

He was also suspicious that he would be severely punished later for revealing his 'savage' name to the executive in the backseat.

Shaw sensed his driver's anxiety. "If you're wondering about the repercussions of you telling me your true name, don't. What happens in this car does not leave it. There are no recording devices in this car, and as long as you don't say anything, Cursai… I won't."

"Of course, Equites. I… appreciate that, sire."

The grav-car floated its way through the hive-like air traffic that penetrated all levels of the nautical city with a trained grace. Clearly this jaunt was far removed from the slave's first foray in piloting a grav-car. 

"What did you say you were, back in your homeland?"

"I didn't, sire. But since you're asking, I was a pilot there as well. 5 years in the Alria Republican Air Force before your people captured me. Your grav-cars aren't so different from our island skippers, just, much faster, hah!"

The businessman in the backseat cracked a smile at finally getting his... subordinate to relax somewhat. He looked out the closest window and saw a wide, flat, triangular building in the distance.

He recognized it as the Tribune—the beating political heart of the Commonwealth. Not even the Alrian Senate Building could compare to the size and majesty. He quietly gave his people credit—they never exactly did anything _small._ And yet… He wondered if the cost they paid for their progress was worth it.

Shaw looked pensively at the scarred neck of the foreigner sitting in front of him. Within the burn scar, he knew, there was implanted a Presperan Slave Collar. They called it a collar, but really it was a bastardized neural interface that can put an unruly slave into a seizure. Some of them could even automatically electrocute the slave for something as simple as speaking their original name.

A few months back, Shaw had used his access to disable most of the more… inhumane restrictions on the slaves owned by his company. Some of the foremen were displeased, and it had some political repercussions... but Shaw-Taggart didn't have shareholders.

He was the ultimate authority, only answering to the Presperan Economic Commission. People questioned him about it, but they could do nothing to hurt him, in the end. He looked back out the window and quietly wondered how his rebellious path would end. 

Shaw thought back to when it started, to that fateful party.

He was a soldier once. A war hero, even. He rescued over a dozen loyal men in a daring midnight raid deep behind enemy lines. They called him "the Shadow over Alria". They gave him medals, propped him up as a paragon of Presperan principles - nation before family, duty before faith, loyalty to the Tribunal above all else. He was even invited to an orgy hosted by the Tribunal, celebrating the dominance of the Presperan way.

But all he saw when he went there was a hundred prisoners of war and half as many high-ranking citizens. The slaves were having things done to them that would make any man wince in terror and pain.

This was the true face of Presperan society, seen by the common Presperii only in fleeting glances, and forgotten just as quickly. The ugly truth was that Presper was no less savage than the lands that surrounded them - in fact, they were significantly more savage.

He didn't remember much of what happened, but one distinct image had played in his head over and over again, since that night.

_His lips trembled, his heart throbbed. He heard the sounds of the decadent display before him - pleasured moans mixed with the distinctive clashing of whips with pristine flesh... and the muffled screams._

_He smelled the burning of human skin from some corner of the room. His grip weakened on his wine goblet, and the expensive ichor splashed down to the marbled floor._

_Finally the silver cup slipped out of his grip entirely, and his now-empty hand shook in mixed rage and terror._

The memory of the sharp sound of crashing finery snapped him out of the past. He found himself suddenly back in his grav-car, years from that moment. He looked down and saw his hands still trembling in the same rage that gripped him so long ago.

"How far to Shaw Tower, Cursai?" He asked of his driver, clear distress in his voice.

"Not much farther, sire. We just cleared the factory district."

"Good. I'd rather not look at these-"

Shaw stopped talking and then stared out the window at the Tribune in the distance, before continuing.

"-casualties of poison and pride, any longer."

◁◇⃟◇▷

What felt like a moment later, the grav-car was powered down and resting calmly in the aerial garage of Shaw Tower. The center of Leonard's empire - and it looked the part, with decadent and polished Neo-Revivalist architecture, even in a dirty zone like the garage itself.

Crowds of servants and citizens alike, mostly mid-to-high level personnel found themselves scurrying about. Some servants were privately owned, others were promised to his company, with the same slave brands that Cursai had.

Speaking of slaves, Leonard figured he'd have to look into Mr. S'rano's background. A loyal Republican pilot could be rather helpful to him, considering what he was planning to do. Despite their less-advanced technology, Alrian fighters on both air and ground were terrifyingly fierce and knew their machines exceptionally well.

Alrians were notoriously agile, close range combatants and favored hit-and-run strikes. Presperan military doctrine was rather different and focused on precise long-distance attacks. This is why the two nations had been locked in a rather … precarious peace, sustained only by a stalemate that may soon end.

Leonard strode across the garage at a tight, brisk pace - emblematic of the man's cold focus in all matters. He stopped at a barely used, polished metal hatch and lifted his wrist to a green light in the center. It lit up and shined a laser scanner to the old man's wrist, then slammed open with a fast hydraulic hiss.

Shaw got into the lift, and only sighed while he waited for the doors to close at a much slower, safer rate. He did not need to press any controls - for this particular elevator only had two stops.

◁◇⃟◇▷

Less than thirty seconds later, and almost forty floors up from where the air garage was, another steel hatch slammed open, revealing the form of the executive within. He strutted out of the titanium capsule, the pin on his lapel with the Tribunal's iconography gleaming in the synthetic sunlight of the central hub of the executive tower. Though surrounded by a mess of perfectly groomed and carefully cultivated plant life, the man yet felt hollow.

He knew the artificial biosphere surrounding him was just that - artificial. Each plant routinely clipped into just the 'right' shape, as if they were as enslaved as the man who drove him here this late in the afternoon. And in all reality, as enslaved as the executive himself.

As if on cue, some computer somewhere in the building decided that it was time to shift the biodome into night mode. The artificial sunlight slowly faded, replacing itself with a silvery blue moonlight. Leonard found it oddly comforting, and wondered why that was.

He kept walking, and the foliage started to clear as he found the outer path which led to the executive offices. Leonard sighed as he found the door to his office in particular, then waved his way in, another scanner granting him passage thanks to the ID implant in his wrist.

The shades automatically turned open and withdrew into the ceiling, sensing his presence, and he beheld the visage that they revealed - the Presper skyline, as beautiful as it was dangerous. Perhaps it was just a symbol - that no matter how beautiful something can be, it can easily be ugly if you scratch just below the surface.

Leonard's prosaic contemplation was interrupted by a slightly older man clearing his throat behind him. He recognized who it was by the sound of that cough, but didn't turn around.

"Peace through strength, Equites Taggart."

"Peace through strength, Equites Shaw," the man replied with a practiced banality.

Leonard Shaw turned around and beheld the face of his co-founder, Robert Taggart. A man almost ten years his elder, and much, much, greyer than him. Bob's hair shined a prismatic white, like a burst of hot plasma, even in the dim shadows of the executive tower's night lighting.

"We need to talk, Leonard."

"Do we?"

Bob said nothing, but simply strode closer to the dark wooden desk that laid behind Shaw. He held under his arm a plastic folder, which he promptly slammed onto the desk with a barely restrained anger.

"Did you know about this?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, but folders aren't exactly a new invention," Shaw snarked.

 _"I meant what's inside them,"_ Bob corrected sternly.

Shaw bent over and picked up the folder off his desk, and pulled out a number of grainy, black and white pictures - presumably taken using an archaic Maloy camera, as Presperan cameras were full-color and digital. In them, he could see soldiers in Maloysi fatigues, carrying advanced, brand-new particle weapons and even plasma grenades. On multiple crates within the pictures, he could clearly make out the Shaw Industries logo stamped somewhere. Shaw himself said nothing, but sat down, stacked the photos up, flipped them over and let them fall onto his desk.

He then leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head cockily, in a practiced move that he learned to pull off rather well, in the company of his peers. Though Bob wasn't the average Presperan either. Regardless, he still prepared to talk up his rehearsed lie.

"We're ironmongers, Bob. It's what we do. Did you really think that your future hydroponics program and your medical nanotech divisions were kept afloat by a pat on the back and an attaboy?"

"That's not- you're selling weapons to the _Maloysi!_ " 

Leonard got up from his desk, turned around and looked out the window.

"Presper was pushing too fast, too hard. Most analysts predicted an end to the war in less than 6 months, which would put us in the red for two fiscal quarters. So I did what I had to to keep our think tanks afloat, to keep Presper moving forward."

A lie, to be sure, but the truth was somehow even more dangerous. It was one thing to be accused of greed in Presperi, quite another to be accused of treason.

Bob wasn't satisfied with this answer. "I'm going to get the board in on this. You've gone too far. You know they're even using those weapons against their own people, right?"

Shaw sighed, disappointed but not surprised by Bob's answer. "You're going to find that difficult, because as of 0800 hours today, I've filed an injunction against you. You've been locked out, Bob. Now, the only reason I'm still letting you speak and I haven't had the guards remove you yet is because of our past together."

"What, _exactly_ did you do, Leonard?"

"Even for a naive idealist like you, it should be obvious. I saw the war being won too fast, and I… arranged to have a shipment of Presper weapons be 'stolen' by the Maloysians. And then another. And then another. The war will go on for another ten years, if not longer. Which will be more than enough for the Defense Commission to drum up enough support for an interventionist strike against the Westerners. 20 years of war, 20 years in the black. An easy trade."

"You've betrayed everything you've ever said, everything this company stands for, and you've betrayed your country. Why? Just for money?"

Shaw paused, then looked away from Bob. "We're ironmongers, Bob. It's what we do."

"Maybe now, it is." Bob practically spat the condemning words into Leonard's cold blue eyes, then flatly stated, "But I will have no part of this inhumane brand of treason."

"Inhumane? The Tribunal would have your head for making such a statement. You should know better, Bob. Presperans don't _do_ charity. Or kindness. **_Especially to our lessers._ ** 'Faith in country, before faith in Gods', and all that. So walk away, before I call in the Guardians and have you removed."

Shaw turned around, unwilling or unable to look at his co-founder anymore. Bob pushed away from the grand mahogany desk, leaving the middle-aged ex-soldier to contemplate his reflection in the perfectly clean window before him. As he stared out into the dark abyss of the Presper skyline, he grimly smiled. He was imagining something else, something darker. He pushed back the dream, the memory, and remembered how the story ended.

All those men and women applauding his grand creations of war? He imagined them dead, decrepit. Corpses walking, clapping to the dread-forged tune of their own demise. Images of a world burning flashed into his mind. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, seemingly to nobody, but with a sense of purpose that had, up until now, been absent.

"I was an iron monger. I knew the price of life… and I sold the tools of death to the highest bidder. In the end, all the pain I inflicted was repaid to me a thousand times over. I tried to undo it, you know - but it wasn't enough. I lived a monster, and still, I died a monster."

He paused, leaned in and stared deeply into his own reflection, as if he were speaking to someone else, residing within the mirrored surface itself. The CEO opened his eyes wider and his voice took on a low, threatening tone.

_"Tell me, wolf girl, what do you know of monsters?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Looking for too long into the shadows means the shadows begin to look also into you."  
> \-- Clan Hijimi Saying
> 
> \---------------
> 
> Apologies for the double post, but I decided that the existing chapter length (~7000 words) I was working with was completely unsustainable from both an editing standpoint and a writing standpoint, so, to make sure I still release work, I've decided to break things up a lot. I have more written, and this is far from a deadfic. 
> 
> Hopefully the chapters will also probably be a lot easier to stomach for all like 2 of my readers. :3


	4. Beginning Again, Part 1

A breath reflexively entered Louve's lungs as a sudden sense of self returned to her. She cracked open her eyes and saw familiar surroundings. Her room—her _real_ room—as messy and chaotic as it was.

In front of her was an inviting window, framed in purple curtains. Pale blue light filtered in between them, telling her that the day had hardly started.

She sat up, pulled her unclothed legs into her equally bare chest and looked wistfully into the sunrise. The dream she just had still weighed heavily on her. 

She had no real reason to believe it was anything other than a simple dream. Yet, sometimes she wondered.

These dreams, they were more vivid, more real to her than any she'd had before. They're always the same—telling the story of an evil man. A brilliant one, but evil nonetheless. They told her the story of a world filled not with magic and Grimm, but with great war machines—not unlike what the Atlesians had—and sprawling factories that choked out the sky.

Yet, for all its differences, it was a world with many of the same problems her own had.

If she didn't know any better, she might have started to wonder if they were maybe _not_ dreams. But, no matter how long she stayed in the dream - no matter what happened, She always woke up. The monster she … either _pretended_ to be or _was_ … in there, he faded. She returned, the story ended. Nothing more to it—just a dream. At least, that was what she told herself to make her heart stop trying to escape her body.

Her heart found trouble with the last thing the man said. She'd never directly addressed herself, in these twisted fever dreams filled with slavery and machines. It was as if, for a moment, a completely different person was speaking to her, through her.

Or, Louve reasoned, through _him_. 

When her breathing slowed enough for her to focus her eyesight, her line of sight first found purchase on the other side of her room, on a wooden sewing mannequin draped in various pieces of her combat outfit. Across its left shoulder was draped a black leather bandolier, with more pouches than she can count from where she sat— though she, of course, knew how many there were.

It connected down on the right side of the mannequin with a belt. Underneath, the mannequin wore a light grey long-sleeved shirt—one of quite a few Louve had in that color—and black denim pants were folded up neatly at the base—specially modified with a tailhole, of course. Near it were strewn hastily discarded light purple elbow pads and knee pads.

A simple and practical outfit, for a simple and practical warrior.

Louve's attention was then drawn to her favorite part of the entire outfit—a black suitcase softly humming in standby mode. Her _Lorica_ , her equalizer.

The subtle harmonics of its homemade Dust energy matrix sounded like an arcane static. Though inaudible to almost everyone else, it was comforting to Louve. The wolfgirl closed her eyes and focused in on its sound, finding her heartbeat stabilizing and her breaths coming easier.

She spent a brief, fleeting moment in this state, collecting her temporarily fragmented mind. Usually she wasn't so shaken by these dreams, but it seems each one was becoming more vivid than the last.

Once Louve fully regained her senses and her body stopped feeling like it was vibrating, she turned her ears (quite literally, in fact—which was one of the perks of being a Faunus) to the door of her room, focusing in on the sounds happening outside of it.

She could hear the clattering of pans, and the crackling of cooking oil on the Dust oven downstairs. The scent of Soriker Syrup and butter filled her nostrils as she remembered that it was the weekend. 

And her Dad was making breakfast.

Her father was not the greatest cook, but he did try. His pancakes left a bit to be desired compared to her mother's, but to be fair, she did set a rather high bar. Though he did make a mean goulash, pancakes were not his speciality. 

As she found herself caught up thinking of food, her stomach finally woke up and started turning, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything after she arrived home last night. She figured it was about time for her to go down and eat her Dad's crappy pancakes.

Though she'd probably want to put on some clothes first.

◁☽⃟☾▷

A moment later, Louve was softly closing her bedroom door after having slipped on some cute panties, a ratty old solid purple t-shirt, as well as her pajamas.

She rather liked this particular outfit, and on lazy days—which was most days for her, really—she tended to stick to the same few outfits. This wolf girl was a creature of habit, and loathed standing out. To elaborate on this, in her closet was hanging three plain white t-shirts, four black t-shirts, 1 black turtleneck, a grey hoodie, and 6 identical denim pants in both black and blue.

Not exactly what one would consider a fashionista's closet.

The purple t-shirt she was wearing was something of an anomaly, a relic from when her parents did most of her clothes shopping.

Black, white, grey. Simple colors, for a simple girl. Pajamas were her one exception—since she didn't go out in them, she opted for something a little nicer. Or at least, somewhat fancier. About 6 months back, she settled on a light blue pair that had a nice pattern of little raindrops on them.

What she wore _underneath_ them was best left to the imagination.

As she descended the last step and turned towards the kitchen, the first thing she that caught her eye was a silvery fox tail gently swaying. It was connected to a balding man well past his prime, but still joyful and as sharp as he ever was. Surrounded by the implements of culinary delight, and softly whistling an old Vacuan nursery rhyme to himself, he didn't see or hear Louve when she snuck up and wrapped her arms around his waist in a gentle hug.

"Hey, dad." She said, her face buried in his back happily, her own tail wagging happily.

"Hey, sledgie. Sleep well?"

Sledgie. Sledgehammer. A little inside joke between Louve and her dad.

Before she mastered building things, she first had to master fixing them, and before she mastered fixing things, she had to master taking them apart.

It took her a while to figure out the 'fixing' and the 'putting back together' bit.

At the time, she overheard her parents talking about how much she was like a sledgehammer—fixing things only by breaking them, so her family would have to replace it. That's how the stupid name stuck. Louve's mom still didn't know that he still called her that.

Louve let out a quiet chuckle as she remembered the time she took apart the very same oven her dad was presently using just to look at all the little Dust crystals and circuits.

"As well as I could, all things considered," she replied, hoisting herself up onto the counter.

Without even looking back at Louve, her dad said, "Get your fuzzy butt off the kitchen counter. You know how your mom hates that."

She pouted and dismounted, instead resorting to a gentle lean.

"Thanks, sweetie." He purred.

Louve abruptly changed the subject. "So when's breakfast? I could smell the Soriker syrup from up there."

Her dad let out a gentle growl and flicked his tail to the side.

"It would be done already if it weren't for this old busted oven. Dust intakes are clogged again, I bet. It's almost ready, though."

"You know, I could take a look at that for you?"

"Oh, don't worry about it, hon. It's an easy fix, just gotta blow out the filters. I just haven't taken the time to do it yet."

He walked in front of the sink to the left, and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands clean of some bacon grease. "Besides, I've heard that you'll need all the time you can get to pack and get ready."

"You heard, I take it?"

"Of course I heard, Louve. Your mom had your story checked out just to be safe. Not that we don't trust you, it's just… Beacon, really?"

Louve nodded and smirked proudly.

"Well, isn't that something? My little sledgehammer, actually becoming a Huntress."

He grinned and turned around to clean a pan, still talking to Louve as he went.

"Of course, you know your mother will be worried sick. Dangerous work, that. You'd be better off and a lot safer getting a simple blacksmithing job here, or maybe you can take up a job as a mechanic, like me."

Her father sighed.

"I wager you'd be bored out of your head, though," He added, with a tone almost resembling resignation. 

"Anyway, your mom's always fretting after you. She didn't approve when you wanted to go to that combat school, you know. I was hesitant, too. But she took a lot more convincing. I told her that we had to be supportive, no matter how much we worried. 'The world needs her, and if she wants to learn how to fight and protect people, it's her decision.', I told her—and myself, really. The world needs heroes, Louve. But I'm sure you know that already."

"I'm not your her— I mean, I'm not a hero yet." Louve said.

He nodded. "I know. You getting accepted to Beacon a year early, though? I don't think your mom was mentally ready to deal with it quite so soon. You'll have to be patient with her."

Louve grabbed her left arm with her other hand and flattened her ears against her head, looking away from her father. "You're taking this awfully well."

"You know that you mom worries enough for the both of us."

Her father then took a few steps away from the stove, placed his hand on Louve's head, then promptly set about playfully ruffling up his wolfish daughter's perennially scruffy mane.

"And don't worry, I'm sure that as soon as you're done eating, she's ready to _pounce_." 

Her dad added a little playful snarl to the end of that sentence. That, combined with the rough but joyful physical affection elicited a rare genuine giggle and a wide smile from the normally sullen teenager.

After her father had stopped, turned back to the constantly malfunctioning stove, and she'd had a moment to collect herself, Louve replied.

"I don't know why she's _already_ panicking. I've still got about a week before I have to be even _at_ the school."

"What your mother understands, that you don't yet, is that this week will go by _a lot_ faster than you think it will. A blink of an eye, and you'll be at Beacon, wondering how you ended up caught in this whirlwind, and having trouble believing that it's really you there."

The wolfish engineer sighed. Her ears flattened against her head in despondency.

"I just hope I'm ready, I guess. That I'm doing the right thing. What if I'm not good enough and if I—"

"If you lose everything?"

Louve nodded.

"Ah, but Louve—really, where is the line between losing everything, and giving it all to say that you've tried? You have come so far already, and you have a chance to go even further."

"So— but—"

Sterling stepped back over to his scruffy daughter and laid an affectionate, wizened hand on her face. Louve caught his calm, blue eyes gleaming at her in the morning sun.

"No more so's, no more but's. Give all you can, honey. That's all anyone can ask, and that is all that you can do. You would feel restless forever if you did not. Just promise me you'll stay alive."

A single gentle tear floated its way out of Louve's eye and ran across her father's rough hand.

◁☽⃟☾▷

At the time, Louve didn't know how right her dad was. It felt like she _had_ just blinked, and now she found her feral self on a Valen airship, with her folded-up _Lorica_ on her lap and a small black duffle bag planted in the seat next to her. The airship ride was smooth, even though there was one boy who ended up getting sick on the journey there regardless. Louve was fighting her own gag reflex, but not because of mere airsickness.

Nobody had ever heard of an anxious Huntress. It just didn't happen—by the time they got here, Louve figured, every student was the best of the best. Cool, confident, secure, talented. Any personal baggage completely dealt with. The nervous and the weak had already washed out in the combat schools.

Louve felt she should have been one of the weeded out ones, but some white-haired man decided to fight fate and pull her out. She figured she'd have to ask him why one of these days—and maybe _then_ decide if she should thank him.

Her heart rate spiked when the ship finally touched up against Beacon's dock, and the throng of both fresh and older students got up and started retrieving their gear. All of their more general luggage was being handled elsewhere, but they had to look after their registered weapons. Louve clutched _Lorica_ close to her chest and got up from her seat, her ears twitching constantly, trying to deal with the onslaught of noise and finding her breathing grow quicker. 

In a moment, she realized what was happening to her. Holding _Lorica_ close and tight in a deathly embrace, desperately filtering out background noise to focus on its comforting resonance. If somebody tried to talk to her at this point, she would probably have reacted very poorly—but mercifully, nobody wanted to casually chat up to the weird, flighty wolf faunus in the back clinging to a humming brick for dear life.

She did quietly smile, in her still anxious state, as she remembered when, at the airstrip back in Vale, one of the attendants mistook _Lorica_ for a suitcase and tried to put a checked luggage stamp on it. That took some explaining.

The small pond of students slowly made their way off the ship. When the stifling masses finally started to clear, Louve found herself behind a tall girl with some of the most bright yellow locks she'd ever seen. She was walking with a younger, dark-haired girl clutching an unidentifiable packed up weapon almost as large as _Lorica_.

She managed to slink her way past them and get off the ship first. As she walked away, the younger one excitedly commented on the collapsable staff that was clipped securely to her belt, then started practically orgasming over the weapons the other students were carrying. She was as pale as a cloud and, well, oddly adorable.

Louve walked away from the strange duo with a bemused smile and kept walking, onto the school grounds. As she travelled light and wore a ton of bags and pouches, she didn't need to wait for the luggage to get unloaded from the ship. The rest of her essentials, and anything else a young engineer-huntress could possibly need, were all tucked away in the black canvas duffle bag.

◁☽⃟☾▷

The first stop on Louve's journey was the health center located to the southwest of the massive communication tower that was the centerpiece of the academy. The twisting corridors of the place almost made the poor wolfgirl dizzy, but thankfully there were more than a few off-duty and on-duty faculty members who could point the way, including one rather portly old man whose moustache was immaculately trimmed into a handlebar shape.

Despite their directions, Louve still found herself misplaced. With time running short, and few other options remaining, the dark-haired wolfgirl opted to seek out one more faculty member. She gently worked her way back to the exit of the veritable labyrinth underneath Beacon, and pushed her way out, only to be greeted with the oppressive light of day. It blinded her for a brief moment before her eyes readjusted to sunlight.

From inside her newfound world of blinding white, she heard a familiar feminine brogue, a rough-hewn but still feminine voice. Louve recognized it immediately as coming from someone that hailed from the distant island of Niacy. In fact, this was one very specific speaker of the accent that Louve knew personally.

"Come now, Inigo. Don't tell me yer back 'as stopped working all of a sudden. My things've gotta be secured quick—"

The speaker didn't even finish her sentence, letting out a sharp and angry gasp. Finally, when the blinded girl's eyes started to work again, she found herself face to face with a red-haired, green-eyed girl whose face was covered in a distracting array of freckles.

 _"You."_ The girl addressed Louve directly, while the smaller, surprised girl squeaked in the least intimidating manner possible. "What are ye doing here, welp?"

Louve fought her anxious impulse and tried to feign what little mote of confidence she could, under the circumstances. 

"Tilly. The _displeasure_ is mine."

The wolf girl sighed before continuing.

"I'm going to be attending here. I was on my way to the Clinic."

"I— _what?_ Oh, Lord a' Light, somebody must be 'aving me on."

The redheaded Claihn'hari girl put her hands on her hips and sighed.

In the moment of silence, Louve's eyes tread a path from Tilly's eyes to her feet, sizing her rival from Emerald Academy up. Tilly's clothing was as upfront and loud as her personality—the pristine white of her short overcoat shone bright, even in the overcast Valen sun. Her equally white leather boots were perfectly polished down. The massive, silvery revolver strapped across her chest glistened gently, the grip partially hidden by the tail end of the orange scarf wrapped around her neck. 

_If I didn't know any better, I'd think this girl was always two seconds away from hitting up a bar, horking down some rum, then hopping onto a boat to go across the Sea of Ghosts and raid some poor Vacuan villages,_ Louve thought.

Despite her distinctly naval aesthetic, the girl still had some semblance of straightforward swashbuckling heroism in the way she carried herself. Even though the two girls were roughly the same height Tilly seemed to be an eerie inverted mirror of the ever-suspicious wolfgirl.

"Inigo?"

It was now that Louve finally noticed that behind her annoying rival stood a massive, stalwart, _boulder_ of a man, whose skin was almost as darkly pigmented as Louve's messy hair. Strapped to his back must have been almost 10 separate pieces of luggage of varying shapes and sizes.

The massive man accompanying Tilly wordlessly stepped forward, almost ready to give the pint-sized wolf a regrettable time if his friend ordered it. Tilly noticed her ally's body language and held her hand up, making it clear that that wasn't what she wanted. 

"No, no. None of that. _Yet._ Ya think maybe this could be the Family's doing? A sick joke fer going against them? They told me they wouldn't retaliate, you think they went back on that? Father might, the old codger _is_ the petty sort."

 _Family?_ _What family?_ Louve thought to herself.

Inigo's face betrayed nothing of his inner contemplation. And yet, for almost 30 seconds he remained completely silent and unmoving. He looked at Tilly, then looked at Louve. He craned his head upwards, as if contemplating the CCT antennas and the offices that resided hundreds of feet above the trio.

Finally, he looked back at Tilly and merely shook his head gently.

Tilly looked back at the equally-quiet wolf-eared girl and sighed.

"Alright, listen, here, whelp. After the beatdown I gave you I didn't think I'd ever see your cowardly, cheating hide again. And I definitely did not _want to_. I dunno how or why you ended up here, but if you put yourself in _my way_ , I will _not_ hesitate to give you the swift kick in th' arse you rightly deserve."

"So there is no chance we could just hug this out, Miss Primrose?" Louve snidely remarked, flashing her small fangs at Tilly.

"No," Tilly coldly stated, forcefully pushing Louve aside.

"Far as I'm measured, ye can _ghab transna ort fhéin._ "

Louve didn't understand the last statement in Claihn'hari, but given the pirate girl's condescending tone, she reasoned that it wasn't something like _'give me a hug'._

The massive wall of a man followed Tilly inside, but stopped briefly, looked back at Louve. He flashed her a sympathetic look that seemed to say, ' _I'm sorry about that.'_

The lupine Huntress-in-training wondered if she'd get along with Inigo if he wasn't seemingly at the beck and call of the biggest bitch that Emerald Academy ever knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching Gaelic swears was probably my favorite part of coming up with Tilly.  
> Louve's right, by the by. It definitely doesn't mean "Give me a hug."
> 
> In fact, it means "Go fuck yourself sideways."
> 
> I mean, Tilly's as broken as Louve, so it might as well mean both.


	5. Beginning Again, Part 2

After a few more minutes of searching, Louve finally arrived at the door to the health center.

She then promptly attempted to pull the door open, only to discover, per a sign printed in _Valois_ , that it was "push only".

A brief moment of head-shaking later, she had pushed her way through. A comfortably decorated lobby awaited her, with various magazines like "Valen Huntsman Weekly" and "Atlesian Technology Digest", both of which she'd probably be interested in sitting down and reading if she was not here for a specific and rather time-sensitive purpose.

The receptionist, a blue-eyed older woman with a gentle smile waved her over.

"Well, hello there, hun. What can I do for you?" Politely greeting Louve in the distinctive twang of a South Mistral accent.

"Hi, my name is Louve Hyacinth? I was told to come here to get registered with you guys."

"Whew, you're early, sweet pea. Most new students don't show up here until later."

"I rather prefer to," Louve hesitated a moment before continuing, " _avoid_ the rush, if you catch my meaning."

"And oh! So dignified - aren't you a pleasure. Well, Louve, can you spell your name for me?"

Louve did so, pausing between each letter with a practiced and precise beat for the woman to understand clearly.

"Age?"

"Don't you have all this on file anyway?"

"Yes and no, hun. We prefer to keep our own records here, for confidentiality reasons."

"Alright, I guess. Well, firstly, I'm 16."

"Oh, that's right. One of our early admittals."

"Yeah, I heard there was at least one other girl my age here."

"Mmhm. Nice girl, she came in yesterday. A bit of a wild child, if I do say so. Anyway, back to basics here—faunus, right?" The woman asked politely, after she eyed Louve's furred ears and gently waving cybernetic tail.

Something briefly snapped inside her head, a feeling or an expectation—or perhaps a hope—being broken. No, of course she couldn't avoid that question forever. Humans are humans, no matter how inclusive they pretend to be. The idea that it might be an innocent inquiry didn't occur to her.

"Yes. Clan Hijimi. Wolf. No prior SDC ' _employment'_." Louve tersely replied, assuming the three follow-up questions the woman would most likely ask.

"Oh, we don't deal with any of those specifics here, just looking to scrawl down medical differences that might make a difference in your care."

Louve relaxed a little bit at hearing that.

"Okay, well. I mean, obviously I have two sets of ears like every other eared Faunus, and keeping both of them clean is tricky. I'm pretty diligent about it, but ear infections can really mess me up. High-frequency sounds really mess me up, too. I might come in to get frequency dampeners adjusted from time to time. Apart from that, the only medically relevant thing is my, erhm, mutation."

"Mutation?" The receptionist asked, preparing a pen to scrawl down a note in the 'potential issues' category.

"Yeah, uhm. Basically, since you work in medicine, I assume you know Faunus are, as a rule, born with only one animal trait?"

The receptionist nodded.

"Atlesian scientists are convinced that the expression of a few specific genes is responsible for that, and that otherwise our genes are identical to humans. The tricky part is when the expression of those genes is interrupted by a strand of garbage genes, usually a random error in duplication. This results in some Faunus, a very, very small percentage, gaining a second trait, but at the expense of some of the power of the others."

The receptionlist looked over her glasses at the wolfgirl. " _Really?_ "

Louve giggled. "No, I'm just kidding. It's an electronic clip-on tail that responds to heartrate and galvanic skin response, reacting to my emotions. Purely aesthetic."

The engineer reached around, then tugged at a concealed clip attached to the tail at her waist. She removed the tail and held it up, showing off her homemade electromechanical accessory to the receptionist, while grinning like an idiot. "I find the best jokes have some grain of truth to them, but that mutation is so rare it's practically a myth. Some of those Atlesian scientists aren't even sure it exists."

"You do have a _singular_ sense of humor, Miss Louve. Well, there shouldn't be anything else. We'll let you know when we've scheduled your first checkup—you should probably book it to orientation. You know where it is, right?"

"Yeah, the main auditorium." Louve replied.

"Mmhm, building 12, dearie. But we call it an amphitheatre."

"Weird, but thanks."

"We have two on campus, don't mix 'em up. One you're wanting is on the north side of the campus, not the southeast. Has a funny-looking roof with metal bars on it, like a crown."

Louve reached back around, setting the tail back in place with an audible click. The wolfgirl briefly imagined a happy moment from her childhood—her father showing her the engine of their Atlesian car. The tail instantly and softly whirred to life, swaying back and forth happily.

Louve started back for the entrance, waving back to the receptionist as she went.

◁☽⃟☾▷

It was several minutes before Louve managed to enter the auditorium. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she was taken aback by the size of it. It looked like it travelled on for a mile, even if she knew that was not the case. The veritable arena surrounding her was appropriately bordered by tall walls, capped in bleachers. She presumed this room served multiple functions. _Perhaps this is where sparring matches are held?_

The old architecture was ornate, with engraved pillars and patterns placed everywhere in perfect symmetry. One single pattern repeated itself over and over in the brickwork—four crescents in a circle, touching each other at their back. Louve reasoned that they represented the four great Academies of Remnant. Beacon, of course, but also Haven, Shade, and Atlas.

 _Leave it to the Atlesians to name their academy after themselves,_ Louve mused.

The poor wolfgirl was just a kid from the backwaters of Atlas, who was only _barely_ adjusted to city life—something this massive, her mind had no frame of reference for. She almost started hyperventilating again at the size of it, but thankfully her awe and pride won out. She didn't know how nor fully understand why, but somehow, this little wolf mechanic had made it.

She was staring up at some random spotlight rail that was over 40 feet above her when she was startled by a tap on her left shoulder.

"Pretty impressive, huh?"

Louve alarmingly turned to face the source of the deep feminine voice, and, and was met face-to-face with a bronzed corset. She looked up and locked eyes with the most beautiful red-headed woman she had ever seen. Her green eyes almost seemed to sparkle in the light as Louve found herself swimming in her gaze and her height.

"I, uhm, yeah. I've never even been in a room this big."

"Not even in your old combat school?"

"Haha, no. Our auditorium was pretty small compared to this."

"Well, everything's about to get a whole lot bigger for all of us. I'm Pyrrha. What's your name?" 

"L-Louve." The shorter wolf-eared girl stammered out.

She held her hand out awkwardly.

"Pleasure." Pyrrha said, taking it and smiling.

The two chatted for a few minutes about where they were from, though Pyrrha seemed a little oddly reserved for being so tall and strong. But then, the shorter engineer figured most people just ended up falling over themselves or assumed she was unapproachable. Louve quietly appreciated talking to someone who didn't seem like they saw her ears first, but saw her entirety, saw her as a person. It felt strange and nice.

Eventually the two said their goodbyes, and Louve naturally found one of the quieter spots in the room, for a given measure of quiet. Through the voices around her, she gleaned that the headmaster she had met at the precinct was due to speak to us soon. Minutes passed, and eventually the students started quietly whispering to each other with a more energetic lean, and she presumed that something was happening.

Louve found an _okay_ viewing angle between two students in front of her and was able to get a good look at the stage. The pale-haired man in the green suit, the headmaster, was stepping onto the stage, with a blonde, stern-looking woman following him closely, her purple cloak flitting about as she walked. Finally, the pair reached center stage and stopped. The older man cleared his throat, and after the inevitable microphone feedback wore off (which made Louve recoil in pain - her ears were very sensitive), he started to speak.

"I'll, ah, Keep this brief." He opened, as he adjusted his circular glasses.

"You have traveled here in search of knowledge—to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you are finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people."

Enthralled by his words, Louve kept listening as every other student in the hall was.

"But I look amongst you and all I see is wasted energy. In need of purpose, direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this. But your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you, to take the first step."

 _Was that supposed to be inspiring? Does he actually even really care about us or what he's doing?_ Louve idly scratched the little sensitive spot between her ears, a little confused by Ozpin's general callousness. He walked away, while the blonde woman stepped up to the microphone to elaborate further on what they were _actually_ supposed to be doing.

"You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You're dismissed."

 _Oh good,_ Louve thought. _I was looking forward to having to sleep on the floor in a massive room surrounded by people._

◁☽⃟☾▷

The ballroom was no less ornate than the auditorium. Louve again marvelled at how much decadence could be maintained in a single school. Dust-activated candles lined the walls, each one resting on engraved wooden pillars that must have been at least twenty or thirty years old by now. Towards the back of the room, a grand chandelier hung, providing most of the room's light.

An upper level was connected to the main room by a curving staircase, no less old and ostentatiously carved than the rest of the room. And here, after securing their weapons in the school's armory, the forty students of Louve's incoming class had set up their school-issued sleeping bags, most of them aligned perpendicularly to the stage at the front.

There were, however, two girls in the back that decided to go against the grain and placed theirs parallel to the stage - the blonde and the dark-haired girl from earlier. Louve had reasoned by now that they must be close friends. The wolfgirl was never blessed with such a close relationship. Even among her fellow Faunus, she was socially awkward and more than a little quiet. She was privately even a little jealous of the relationship the two shared.

Louve reclined back onto her sleeping bag, not quite ready to completely tuck in yet. She was rather grateful that her neighbor was a little quiet herself. A surprisingly dark-haired girl, with long, flowing hair. Not quite as shy as Louve, but she had a gentle, demure quality that was hard to find.

After calming her frayed nerves that were sent ablaze at the thought of attempting to make a friend, the wolf-eared girl rotated onto her left arm, turned towards her gentle companion and gave her best attempt at socialization, a smarmy grin on her face.

"So, uh, come here often?"

The girl stopped in the middle of fluffing her green pillow, cocked an amused eyebrow and replied. "Hmm, not really. And I definitely wouldn't want to stay here. Floors are awful uncomfortable."

She paused for a moment, then added, "My name's Verdant. What's yours?"

"Louve. Interesting name, Verdant. Means 'green', right? Explains the forest-y color scheme you've got going on there." Louve pointed at Verdant's forest green pillow, then gestured broadly to the rest of her body, which was shod in a curious mix of earth tones and greens. Her pajamas had little green trees on a tan background. Louve found the aesthetic rather cute.

Verdant laughed. "You're one to talk, Miss my-first-name-literally-means-wolf!"

Louve chuckled softly before changing the topic. "So where are you from?"

"Outside the walls. Used to live south of Vale. My family and I moved to the city not long ago."

"Oh, really? How long?"

"Just uhm… a few months ago." Verdant sadly looked down before shaking her head and recovering, her prior perkiness returning. "I really like it here, though!"

"Well, great!" Louve said, entirely oblivious to the other girl's sudden influx of sadness. "My family's been here for a couple of years. We moved here from Atlas."

"Oooh, Atlas. That's far. From Atlas itself?"

"Not… exactly." Louve said.

Thinking about Atlas drummed up some uncomfortable memories she had long tried to forget, so Louve abruptly changed the subject. "So how's your first day here been?"

"Oh, hectic! And a little exhausting, hah! The line at the Armory and the Clinic was _insane!_ "

Louve giggled, remembering how she'd kind of seen the Clinic rush coming and went beforehand. "Yeah, the line for the Armory was crazy. That girl with the unregistered scythe kinda held up the line, too. What kind of weapon has, like, _four_ separate forms?"

"A brilliantly designed and very powerful one." Verdant perceptively reasoned.

At this, Louve's mind was instantly filled with a flash of inspiration. As she took a moment to focus, the weapon envisioned in her mind was absurd, no… Insane. Almost like her _Valorous Lance_ , but almost four times as big, and crammed in with more features than she could even fathom. The autolocking receiver concept alone- Regardless, she pushed the idea aside to flesh out more later.

The two were quiet until the students' assigned chaperone, a man with dark-green, messy, slicked-back hair and blue eyes walked through the area. His white dress shirt was left partially untucked in his grey slacks, giving him a sloppy aesthetic. In his right hand he carried a large thermos, filled with, Louve presumed from his rather manic demeanor, some sort of very concentrated stimulant.

He bellowed out in an exceptionally quick but authoritative voice, "Lights out, everyone! Get some sleep, big day tomorrow."

The teacher followed that up with a voice command that automatically lowered the room's Dust illumination to much darker levels. Despite this call, Louve heard behind her the distinct scraping sound of a match being lit. Clearly one of the students wasn't ready to sleep yet. The wolfgirl sighed, then unzipped her bag, tucking her body into it comfortably.

Louve zoned out for a time, thinking more about that weapon idea she had. She thought about the more complex Huntsman weapons and wondered how their operators could control them so handily. Practice, she reasoned. The more modern, complicated ones were an assemblage of clockwork and electronics - a strange hybridization of the primitive and the advanced.

In the heavier ones, Gravity Dust was even involved in the construction process, to make them lighter without losing any structural integrity. That's usually what people called "Huntsman's Steel"—an ordinary high-carbon steel alloy, mixed with trace amounts of Gravity Dust that makes it lighter.

It was very expensive, with a single ten-pound bar of it costing over 45,000 Lien, but if one wanted to make a weapon that could do the things like the best Huntsman weapons can do, you needed a fair amount of that.

Without it, the average warrior could barely lift the weapon, much less use it in combat—even after taking into account strength enhancements from Aura. Some Huntsmen got around this cost barrier by using a combination of other, less expensive and more mundane metals for areas that were less important, like tungsten or titanium—but still, the best material in terms of resilience and weight savings was unambiguously Huntsman's Steel.

Still, Huntsmen wouldn't need to use such ridiculously expensive materials if they didn't have a perverse addiction to complexity. Louve fell victim to the internal culture of over-engineering utterly ridiculous weapons as well, but she was at least aware of how silly it all was.

The resting Faunus was interrupted in her engineering-induced daze by a conversation taking place to the left of where she slept. She gently and silently turned her head, angling her furred ears to the source of the noise.

She saw those two girls, the very close friends. Louve leaned more towards thinking they were friends or, perhaps, adopted sisters as they had completely different appearances. The taller, stronger one was blonde, with curly hair. The shorter and much paler one had black hair with red highlights. They were talking to a raven-haired girl slumped against the wall. The lying wolfgirl reasoned that it was possible the match sound had come from the girl on the floor, as there was a set of lit candles next to her. She carried herself somewhat like Louve, but somehow was even more antisocial, from her body language.

To amuse herself while people-watching, Louve liked to give people whose names she didn't know dumb nicknames. In this case, since she didn't want to think so hard, she picked nicknames based on their hair colors. 'Yellow' for the taller one and 'Red' for the shorter friend. She decided to call the seated girl 'Black' because her hair was completely black, versus Red's own highlights. After all, they couldn't both be called Black.

"Nice night, don't you think?" Yellow asked.

"Yes, it's _lovely._ Almost as lovely as this book. That I will continue to read." Black was clearly unimpressed by the two getting to know her.

"As soon as you leave," she dryly concluded.

Yellow turned to Red and scoffed. "Yeah, this girl's a lost cause."

Red seemingly ignored Yellow and just kept trying. "What's it about?" Louve let out a mild grunt, somewhat annoyed the girl can't take a hint that maybe Black wanted to be left alone.

Black looked up from her book. "Huh?"

"Your book. Does it have a name?"

Louve was a little bit invested at this point, her radial ears honed in on the conversation happening just a few feet away from her. Some might say it's rude to eavesdrop, but she felt that, as long as she didn't say anything about what they said, it was harmless to just listen. She couldn't really help it if her radar dome ears picked up some stranger's conversation halfway across the room, and these two were practically right next to her, relative to an eared Faunus' hearing range.

Black hesitated, but replied. "W-Well— it's about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body."

Louve privately mused to herself that the plot sounded rather familiar to her, before dashing the idea and focusing back in on the conversation. Yellow was clearly the less bookworm-y of the two, only half-heartedly commenting. Red, on the other hand, stepped closer, keen to share in the passion. 

"I love books. Yang used to read to me every night before bed." Red gestured to Yellow.

Apparently Yellow's name was Yang. Louve was mildly irritated that she'd have to stop using the dumb nickname she'd made up for her now. 

Red continued. "Stories of heroes and _monsters—_ they're one of the reasons I want to be a Huntress."

Black's tone was mildly amused but rather condescending. "And why is that? Hoping you'll live happily ever after?" 

"Well, I'm hoping we all will. As a girl, I wanted to be _just_ like those heroes in the books. Someone who fought for what was right and who protected people who couldn't protect themselves!"

Red almost sounded she was the protagonists of one of those books herself, the way she carried on about honor and justice at the drop of a hat. Louve couldn't help but get a little caught up in her speech. But then reminded herself…

"That's very ambitious for a child… Unfortunately, the real world isn't the same as a fairy tale."

There it was. Black had almost completed Louve's own thoughts there. The reality of this world. Atlas, the Faunus—nothing comes out of a century of war unscathed. Then, there was the Grimm. Louve respected Red's blind idealism, but she didn't allow herself to be caught up in it too.

Louve lost track of the rest of the conversation, instead looking inwards, quieting her mind and flattening her ears against her head comfortably. Even zoned out like she was, the exhausted Faunus still caught what happened to the students that were still awake. After a moment, Yang and Red ended up getting into a fight before getting interrupted by a rather angry white-haired girl that had stormed halfway across the hallway just to shut the group down. 

_Yep, those two are definitely sisters_ , Louve thought to herself.

As she was close to sleep, the wolfgirl turned to the side and saw the shattered moon of Remnant, watching over her like a silent guardian. With the silence in the room, Louve felt her anxiety returning. Despite not being religious herself, she knew the power of faith, any kind of faith. She remembered a poem she read a few days ago.

She recited the words and dedicated them to the moon itself, relaxing herself in the face of the danger and uncertainty surrounding what was going to happen to her tomorrow. Closing her eyes, Louve drifted off to sleep not long after. Mercifully, her dreams were usually normal. She did not fear every night's sleep, for her demons only came around to torment her once in a while.

Perhaps that was some small mercy the gods had granted her.

* * *

> _To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;_
> 
> _To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;_
> 
> _To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;_
> 
> _To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates_
> 
> _From it's own wreck the thing it contemplates;_
> 
> _Never to change, nor falter, nor repent;_
> 
> _This, like thy glory, my King, is to be_
> 
> _Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;_
> 
> _This is alone, Life, Joy, Freedom and Victory._
> 
> \-- _Faunus Be Free_ , a literary drama published in Year 10 of the 12th era by Persephone Shell.
> 
> She was executed by the Kingdom of Mistral a year later for the Unlawful Creation of Literature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting part about writing for two separate characters that are, admittedly, based on myself in different ways - but in two completely different age brackets, is that I get to explore multiple aspects of my own life through the lens of fiction. The other fic I'm writing, While We Fall, at least for now is pretty reflective of the person I am now - while Louve reflects the experiences that have shaped that. 
> 
> The first time I visited one of the largest universities in my home state for an academic competition, I felt just about in awe as Louve was when she entered the auditorium. She's in awe of the facilities, seeing how beautiful they are and how much she feels she's made it. But just as I found out, Louve will probably soon discover that now that she's attending an elite school now, that just means the stakes are that much higher.
> 
> Also, I hope everyone's staying safe and sound in the wake of everything that's going on out there - I'm technically not dead, and nor are my fics, but there's a fair amount of people who can't say the same :(
> 
> Stay strong, wash your hands, etcetera etcetera.
> 
> Hopefully some fanfics will help you pass the time ;)
> 
> Oh, interesting note about how Louve has changed - the conversation with the receptionist is kind of a gag reference to an earlier version of the character which actually did have wolf ears and a tail, until I learned about the 'only one animal trait' rule. In the interest of making sure Louve wasn't too snowflaky, but still wanting her to have a tail, I changed the concept to just be a jerry-rigged furry tail. 
> 
> Cool thing when writing about the Faunus is how their animal traits don't just shape the way they're reacted to by society, but the way they choose to present themselves. I always thought that there would be a strong market for things like tail belts and ear-shaped headbands among the Faunus, for people looking to complete the 'aesthetic'. I mean, Sienna Khan got tattoos to complete her Bengal Tiger look, so it's really not *that* out there.


	6. The Call of the Wild, Part 1

Night passed, and the shattered moon fell beneath the horizon. In its place, the first lights of dawn peeked between the closed curtains of the ballroom. The forty students of the incoming first-years hadn't stirred yet, save a mere few.

Far to the side, well removed from the rest of the class, a dark-haired, wolf-eared girl stirred. Her weary eyes opened silently, and for a brief moment, a flash of violet light burst from her now-open eyes.

Louve had accidentally activated her Semblance for the briefest of moments. It was a force of habit, an awakening reflex trained by having danger around every corner for most of her life.

She shifted position onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, struggling to keep her still-tired eyes open. Louve yawned, stretched as much as she could in the cramped quarters, then sat up, idly licking her dry lips.

It would be quite a long time before the rest of the students would be forcefully awakened by the full opening of the curtains, but Louve decided that since she'd uncharacteristically woken up early with some of the more dedicated students—including that one tall redhead she'd talked to in the auditorium yesterday—it would be best to get a head start on everyone else.

Pyrrha was on the opposite side of the room, rolling up her sleeping bag. She was wearing bronze-colored pajamas, which bore a surprising contrast with her ivory skin.

Louve stared a little too long, and the amazonian woman caught her eyes, sending a slightly tired, but happy smile. The wolfgirl returned the expression, then got to work packing up her own rest area, being careful to not disturb her own still-sleeping blonde neighbor.

A moment later, Louve was in the shared restroom, using her purple toothbrush to clean her precious maw of any accumulated grime from the previous night.

She spent extra time on her enlarged canines, as their large surfaces meant they tended to be a lot dirtier than the rest of her teeth—and given their length, it was all the more important to keep them clean.

When she was done, she flashed a terrifying grin into the mirror. The wolfgirl saw otherwise human, perfectly cleaned teeth—though her front teeth were, of course, framed on both sides by the aforementioned canines, almost three times as long as the human norm.

She scratched that little spot between her ears, yawned, then rifled through her cosmetic bag, looking for her hairbrush.

After a moment, the hunter had found her quarry and started going to work running it through her unkempt morning mane. She sighed, closed her eyes and relaxed a little bit as she did the work.

> **_Louve._ **

The voice came from within her very mind. The wolfgirl slammed her eyes wide-open, and gasped when, instead of her soft hazel eyes and dark hair, she saw that old man from her dreams in the mirror. His grim façade bore no ill will that she could see, but he had replaced her nonetheless.

His grim smile and greying black hair faded with the rest of him, and she returned.

_Stress. Gotta be stress._

The idea didn't reassure her. That man followed her everywhere, and she did not know why. The wolfgirl leaned closer and glared into her own reflection.

"Who are you?"

◁◯▷

_A vision rushed into Louve's mind._

_A memory swimming up, but she cannot breach the surface._

_Infinite mirrors reflecting on each other, but we cannot see the others?_

_Trapped within a labyrinth, that we're all crawling and bleeding and trying to get out of..._

_And the last, she forgets, it's up to you to remember?_

_It's up to us to remember._

_Up to us to remember._

_A chorus of voices, a cavalcade of violence, and faces she couldn't see._

_Men, women, all whispering in the darkness._

_"Right piece of work we've found ourselv—"_

_A man._

_"What I did at first, I did without choice—"_

_Another man, different from the first. Colder. A strange accent, completely different._

_"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough—"_

_And then a woman._

_Each voice different, each one shouting in the writhing abyss._

_The voices went away. And then, the warped fever dream gave way to the vision of a silvery dragon, floating in the void._

_The serpentine reptile snaked through the air, approaching the terrified wolfgirl with a breakneck pace. Its nose was a mere inch from Louve's own._

_The corners of its lips curled up in a perverse replica of a human grin, baring far more teeth than even Louve herself._

_Then, the strange dream faded._

◁◯▷

Before Louve in the mirror was left the visage of only one man, that same man that followed her in her dreams. He seemed older, far older than her dreams showed him to be. More lines on his face, and more weariness in his eyes. His hair, almost completely greyed—a harrowed, ancient man. 

His voice sounded far more gravelly and withered than he did before.

"Tell me, wolfgirl, what do you"—he took a light, raspy breath—"know of monsters?"

◁☽⃟☾▷

The next moment, it felt like Louve had snapped out of it and she was already on the long walk from Beacon to the Forever Fall Forest. Next to her was her sleeping companion from last night _—_ the blonde, Verdant.

"What's wrong, sourpuss?"

Louve turned her ears to the left, towards the sound of the gentler voice that she immediately recognized as the sweet-hearted blonde from last night. She opted not to speak of that mad dream.

"Oh, nothing. Just a little tired, is all. They did wake us up really early."

"Ahyep! Bet we're going to be put through the ringer today, too. Hope you got your fill in the chow hall."

Verdant pointed at the massive metal briefcase Louve held in her hands.

"Gonna whack a Sabyr upside the head with that clutch of yours?"

Louve laughed.

"No, hah. At least, not if I can avoid it. It's actually a prototype self-assembling and self-supporting hard light shield projection harness."

"A what now?"

"Fancy armor."

"It have a name?"

" _Valorous Lorica._ "

"Oh, a very good name! Honorable and strong, much like its owner, hm?"

Louve slightly blushed. The shy Faunus never thought of herself as either of those words, but she figured maybe her new friend with the golden ringlets standing before her might have a fairer assertion of the wolfgirl's qualities than she did.

The two girls kept walking with the rest of the student body, and Louve privately regretted cramming so much common alloys into her packed-up armor. Huntsman alloy was far too expensive, she reasoned. Despite her stocky build and the help of what little Aura she had, she found herself straining under the weight, even when she was carrying it with both hands.

Louve glanced over at Verdant, curious what sort of weapon such a sweet girl would be carrying. Slung over her back was some sort of single-shot grenade launcher. 

"Verdant, what's your weapon?"

"Oh, I call it _Rule of Nature._ "

Verdant unclipped it from its shoulder strap and brandished it with practice.

"A single shot Dust-action air cannon, capable of launching just about anything I toss into it."

"Really? Wow, that's so cool!"

"Mmhm!"

"What do you shoot out of it?"

Verdant leaned over to Louve, as if preparing to tell some great secret to her. 

"Love potions." 

"Oh, Grimm droppings!" 

Verdant laughed. "Kidding—I mean, I've never _tried_ to make a love potion before—maybe it _could_ be done. But no, generally I just shoot out these little aerosol bags and sometimes seed shells."

At this, she gestured to the wide array of cloth bags dangling around her waist.

"What, uhm, what do they do?"

"Oh, some of them are just Dust bags—Fire, Ice, you know—but a few of them are alchemical concoctions of my own making—smoke bombs, chemical explosives, toxin clouds, but mostly helpful remedies. Some other harder to find things, too."

"Wow, so, you're like a healer?"

"Mmhm! Of a sort."

Finally reaching the end of the path, the line of fresh students finally came to a pair of faculty members—the two that spoke to the student body on the day that they arrived. The blonde, Louve now knew as Professor Glynda Goodwytch, the stern Dean of Students—and the older man wearing a green suit, whom she of course knew as Professor Ozpin; the headmaster of Beacon himself.

It was Ozpin that spoke first.

"Ah, good morning. Since we're all here, we can finally begin. To those of you who did not know already, my name is Professor Ozpin. Welcome to Initiation. And hopefully for most of you, the beginning of a very long and rewarding journey."

After that, the younger woman spoke. "And my name is Professor Goodwytch. Take your place on one of the pads, and the nearest professor to you will give you the rest of the details."

◁☽⃟☾▷

A few moments later, all of the students had taken up position on one of the stainless steel pads bearing the heraldry of Beacon Academy. Louve herself had taken the most remote pad, next to Verdant. Louve's hair gently waved in the cold morning air, and her slightly tired, dry eyes did not react well to the continuous gusts coming in from the forest before her.

The green-haired professor took a sip from his coffee thermos and began to speak in his usual absurdly high-paced tone of voice with few pauses in his speech, frequently punctuated instead by him merely taking another sip of the presumably strong stimulant.

"Your deployment into the Emerald Forest will take place very soon. Once you are inside, do not hesitate to defend yourself from anything in there - or you _will_ die."

The wolf-eared girl at the end of the line raised her hand. "Uhm, yeah, question. So are we waiting for an airship to take us in, or?"

Oobleck shook his head.

"So how are we getting in?" Louve asked.

"You will be using a landing strategy of your own creation."

The wolfgirl flattened her black ears to her head. "Landing strategy?"

Professor Oobleck said nothing and took another sip of his coffee, smiling.

 _Great, landing strategy. So I imagine they're gonna pick us up and then drop us in? I don't understand how any of this works,_ Louve thought to herself.

"One final note to all of you. Up until now, we were ordered to keep from you how the selection process for your teams is going to work. Now, I get to tell you the truth. Each of you will be sorted into a team today. You will be with these other 3 people for the entirety of your time here. That being said, the rules of the selection of _partners_ are as follows: The first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years. You will be monitored and graded for the duration of the Initiation, but if something happens inside, we are under strict orders to not intervene."

Oobleck took a rather long sip from his thermos. A moment later, he then continued at his previous talking speed.

"You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path, containing several relics. Each pair of partners will choose one and return to the top of the cliff. You will protect that item with your life, for it is your ticket into Beacon. Professors Ozpin and Goodwytch will then grade your defense of the item appropriately and assign you into a team. Are there any further questions?"

A few students near Louve asked a few questions related to the initiation itself, but most remained quiet, including Verdant. The green-haired eccentric provided few answers, being under a strict gag order from Ozpin himself. Even so, Louve still noticed in his expressions and his body language that he disliked holding back any information from the young prospects.

The conversations around her faded away into muffled white noise as Louve focused her mind, tuning out all distractions. It was in this state of clarity that Louve was able to register that the steel pad beneath her feet had been shifting ever so slightly with her movements the entire time. The minimal degree of the motion would probably have been imperceptible to most people, but Louve had a habit of noticing things a great many things others didn't.

The anxious wolfgirl idly rotated her ankles and shifted the weight gently backwards. It was a tricky proposition, as all the extraneous gear she was carrying made her somewhat top-heavy, even though she tried to keep most of the heavier gear in the side bags closer to her center of gravity. Using the folded-up Valorous Lorica as a counterweight for her motion, she felt the steel slab sink into the grass behind her. There was no relevant sinking on the front of the plate, telling her that it was probably hinged there.

Feeling more confident, she then gently tucked her hips backward, giving the mechanism a few test bounces. The entire motion was subtle, but still would have looked rather silly, if anybody was watching. In response, her omnidirectional human ears were filled with the muffled, strained twanging of a rusted spring that had long been exposed to the elements. Despite the years, it had maintained its tension well, given how little it actually gave into Louve's weight.

_Vertically-mounted spring… cast iron plate. Every time I bounce, I think I hear metal hitting metal under ther— Oh, that's probably a releas—_

It was in that moment that she reasoned out just how the students were going to enter the forest. Unfortunately, it was a moment too late. Distracted by her experimentation, she hadn't noticed that the faculty member on her end of the line had suddenly stopped talking. 

Then, in the space of a fraction of a second, a tiny lock within the plate clicked open, triggered electronically by some mysterious signal. The sound was met with a surprised gasp from the misplaced engineer - a gasp quickly interrupted as she was promptly catapulted high into the air, the reflexive activation of her Aura being the only thing preventing her legs from being shattered by the upward force.

Two seconds after Louve's own mechanism had triggered, Verdant's plate did the exact same motion with her. Though at least in the latter's case, she had a moment to brace herself. The remaining 38 pads proceeded to fired off in sequence - a continuous, but deliberate staccato. Some launches were followed by screams, others were followed by triumphant howls.

Two minutes later, 40 teenagers, most of them not even old enough to drink by Vale's admittedly liberal laws, were being thrown—in the most literal sense of the word—into an extremely dangerous live-fire situation and given little to no relevant information or tips to survive it.

Though the students didn't know it, getting knocked out or injured would merely result in being promptly rescued from the forest by experienced Huntsmen and medical drones that were on standby. They would still wash out, of course, being sent home with the students who didn't reach the Temple in time or failed to protect their relic. Ozpin could be callous and manipulative, but he still had a public image to maintain.

At least, that was his answer in polite company—the real answer was much more complex than that. The steady advance of the Grimm never ended, and humanity needed as many soldiers they could get his hands on to hold the line.

Even the washouts would still play their part—if only as cannon fodder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm going somewhere with this and I'm not dead yet.


	7. The Call of the Wild, Part 2

When Louve's perceptions were able to register the rush of air filling her scraggly mane and the sensation of unexpected flight, the impulse of terror flooded her mind. Her heart leapt into action, rushing to supply blood to the important areas of her increasingly panicked form as an instinctive plan of action took shape within her. Yet, almost fallen into the grip of helplessness, a single helpful and calming word flashed across the surface of the wolfgirl's panicked mind.

_Lorica._

A heartbeat after being launched into the air, she brought up what Aura she had, knowing it wouldn't be enough to cushion her fall in its own - but it was better than nothing, and she needed it for what followed. A heartbeat later, she shifted her right arm closer, the metal suitcase she had been carrying now filling both her hands.

In the next moment, she rushed a fraction of her Aura into the case. As it did in the police station a week prior, two handles deployed from its mass. One at a time, so as not to lose her grip on it and doom herself, her hands instinctively wrapped around them. She could feel her accelerated, panicked heartbeat on the cold steel. 

The adrenaline-soaked Faunus would not have to wait long for her armor to respond to her touch. A dizzyingly complex array of machines clicked into action, and in the first second, it had clamped itself around her forearms, rapidly assembling itself into its true form. A second later, it had formed itself into two struts on her upper arms.

With the armor partially assembled, the wolfgirl's eyes widened at the rapidly approaching treeline and a realization hit - she would not have enough time to wait for the armor to deploy completely. As a paranoid and anxious individual, she was, of course, _somewhat_ prepared for a situation like this, but she had hoped she wouldn't need to use the procedure she designed for it so soon. 

What complicated matters further is that, with the muffling effect of the wind being generated by her ongoing fall, she wouldn't be able to rely on voice commands to implement her plan. Louve quickly tucked her arms in to allow the bulk of _Lorica_ to clamp to her chest and begin partially assembling the torso frame. 

Then, she reached out to her left forearm to find the armor's manual controls. She woke up the display with a quick tap. The top of the screen said "Valorous Lorica - D2/Dust Mode: Inactive" and underneath, had two more lines saying "Status: Deploying" and "Current Dust Profile: Hard Light", respectively.

Louve tapped the button on the screen that said "Halt Deployment" twice, then ignored the message that said "Warning: Rear and Lower Projectors Not Deployed, Armor Functionality Halved."

The long deployment sequence aborted, she reached down to Lorica's belt-mounted Dust loader, then clicked a mechanical button on the top of its round casing. A spring-loaded mechanism ejected a light blue cartridge of Dust, which promptly fell away, landing on the ground some 80 feet below. Louve inaudibly cursed in _Hijiko_ , mourning the loss of what little she had of the most expensive type of Dust in the world.

She then reached inwards to her chest and unbuckled one of the leather pouches strapped across her, with as much haste as she could muster. From within its soft interior, she withdrew a purple cartridge of Dust, clicked the pouch closed again, then reached down and placed it in _Lorica's_ Dust loader, the vial locking into place automatically. Gravity Dust in place, she reached over to the controls once more and executed an emergency power-up sequence in Movement Arrest Mode. 

A moment after doing so, Louve then suddenly felt her body get jerked upwards as her suit's Dust energy projectors came to life and slowed her fall to a somewhat safer speed within just a second. The ground, though, was still approaching quickly and the system would not able to slow her fall enough to land gracefully.

She collided with the ground, then bounced upwards. She could feel the enervating, soul-tearing effect of massive Aura loss. It was an indescribable sort of pain that registered on a level far beyond the physical. In mid-air, Louve attempted to right herself, but then fell back down to the ground again, the successive impact hurting a lot more without the buffering effect of her Aura in place. She struggled to breathe and her entire body recoiled in agony.

After just two bounces, her vertical inertia had been reduced enough for her final impact to mark an end to the poor wolfgirl's suffering. Louve hit the ground once more, but this time stayed in contact with it. She slid almost 10 feet forward, her chin and face skidding along the top of the grass surface - a mouthful of dirt the reward for her troubles.

The poor wolfgirl coughed and sputtered, trying to purge the earthy taste from her tongue. Her lungs burned as _Lorica_ sparked and crackled with unstable Dust energy. She rolled over and exhaled, her breath ragged and shallow. She reached over to her left arm again, and powered down the suit's Dust energy systems. The sparkling and crackling quickly faded.

◁☽⃟☾▷

Louve stood up, however much the top-heavy half-deployed state of her armor made balancing difficult. She walked to a tree and braced herself on it with her right arm, its study profile helping the exhausted and terrified wolfgirl stay upright. Almost collapsing under the unbalanced weight of her armor, she lifted her left arm up. She tried to focus her eyes on the control pad, but her field of vision remained stubbornly blurry. 

" _Lorica_ , resume." She panted out. With the presence of the wind no longer a factor, she opted for _Lorica_ 's voice controls, since manual operation wasn't an option at the moment.

The sound of motors and linear actuators started again as _Lorica_ 's chassis slowly distributed itself evenly across her body to where it should be. Steel braces deployed and self-assembled, clamping themselves around her black pants. On her back, she soon felt the comforting weight of the primary Dust Projection Harness in position where it needed to be. 

With its leg actuators finally firmly locked to her heavy, steel-toed combat boots, Louve felt _Lorica_ suddenly become almost weightless to her bruised form. However, the suit's drives only accounted for its own weight. The almost 40 pounds of miscellaneous survival gear and implements she was still carrying in a myriad of pouches and bags slung all over her person still slowed her down. Mercifully, that was a burden she was more accustomed to bearing.

Her eyes were starting to be able to focus again, and the engineer-huntress lifted her head up and breathed a sigh of relief, finding some measure of relaxation in the fact that her precious exoskeleton was fully active. Though presumably a little banged up. Once the wolfgirl was finally able to stand up under her own power, she lifted her left arm to her chest, looking down at her armor's controls.

" _Lorica_ , Suit."

The screen lit up, displaying a cartoonish analog of the human form, with lines depicting a metal exoskeleton strapped to the front and back of its torso. Mechanical struts were assembled on the sides of its limbs, with actuator positions perfectly matched to the position of the human's own joints, moving alongside them without slowing the operator down. 

The torso section in particular was vibrantly indicated in red, telling Louve that it was heavily damaged from the impacts and not functioning properly. She tapped the torso for a more detailed diagnostic, and the display indicated at least two secondary projector nodes would need to be replaced. Everything else was reassuringly marked in either yellow or green. Those systems were still working properly, though the yellow ones were slightly damaged.

There weren't any status indicators on the area of the body where Louve's head would have been. A complete hard light seal around her body would have made it impossible for the wearer to breathe without some form of life support, so she opted to forgo any head-mounted projectors. Though she was rather regretting that now.

Louve touched her chin with her hand and pulled away when the contact created a stinging sensation. When she pulled her hand away, she could see red smears on her fingertips. Figuring that wasn't the only injury she took, the young Huntress opted to issue one more command to her _Lorica_.

" _Lorica_ , Medical." 

The young Tech-Huntress had seen fit to install a cobbled-together medical suite into _Lorica_ , just in case. A more realistic human body took shape on the screen, idly fading between layers of organs, muscle, and bone. The flashy interface was mostly for show, as the system only really had the ability to read blood pressure, pulse, oxygen, Aura level, and respiratory rate. In between breaths, she read the display out loud to herself.

"182 over 110. Pulse 130. Moderate hypoxia. Severe enervation."

Louve adjusted her posture, stretching out as much as she could to maximize her lung capacity. While deliberately breathing in as much of the chilly forest air as possible, she felt her rapid heartrate slowing, and her alertness mostly returning.

Judging from her dizziness and the fact her ears hadn't stopped ringing since the impact, Louve figured that she probably had a concussion.

Then, there were the other trouble spots. She reached down past _Lorica_ 's chest harness and lifted her shirt up, exposing her pale abdomen. While it was hard to see, Louve could tell that at least the lower section of her ribcage looked purple and discolored. 

"Great. Broken?" Louve asked out loud, mostly to herself. "No, if my ribs were broken, they'd be hurting a lot more. I think they're just bruised."

She lowered her shirt and started to tuck it back into her pants, then felt a stabbing pain in her left shoulder when she moved her arms inward, around the buckle. She gripped her shoulder and pressed around her clavicle, searching for the source of the pain, then yelled out in agony when she finally found it.

It was several seconds later when her head had finally stopped spinning.

"Yeah, that's _definitely_ broken."

◁☽⃟☾▷

Louve used her undamaged right arm to finish tucking her shirt in, then sighed, taking a moment to absorb the verdant beauty of the Emerald Forest. She idly put her hands on her hips, mercifully not aggravating her injured shoulder in the process.

"In summary: Severe enervation, hypoxia, at least three bruised ribs, a broken collarbone, and probably a mild-to-moderate concussion. I'm gonna be spending a little time in the clinic when all is said and done, but it could have been worse."

Louve angled her hazel eyes up at the sky above. " _A lot_ worse, really."

Both Louve and _Lorica_ were covered in dirt and grass stains, and they both had more than a few bits of battle damage already. However, they were still together, and still in one piece, which meant they could press onward, find a partner and complete the initiation.

She stared back up into the sky and remembered what her father had said to her a week before in her family's kitchen.

_Give all you can, honey. That's all anyone can ask, and that is all that you can do. You would feel restless forever if you did not._

"Alright, dad. When I dared to dream of something greater, I flew away into the sky. Now, I will do whatever it takes to stay there," she said wistfully.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. For most Huntsmen, the learned fight-or-flight response is tempered by discipline and knowing that the buffer of their Aura gives them the protection and breathing room to think and plan out their actions. Rarely do they experience combat situations they cannot freely disengage from, even after taking multiple hits. This means few have to worry about being overwhelmed by stress hormones.

Louve was a special case. Her limited Aura made every action she took a potential risk. Situations that would be trivial to deal with for others, would be life-and-death for her. The rush and relief of surviving something that should have killed them can create strange responses in anyone. Some can be driven to uncontrollable tears, others can feel the rush of adrenaline, and yet still others simply fall unconscious from the stress. Euphoria boiled over in her mind as a similarly strange reaction was about to hit the battered wolfgirl.

In the middle of the Emerald Forest, surrounded by impact craters and a line of upended soil, the maddened young woman lost her senses and laughed maniacally, as loudly as she could muster. 

_Oh, bad idea._

Louve curled over, clenching her suddenly spasming diaphragm as her lungs burned. Overwhelmed by pain all over again, the wolfgirl used what little air remained in her lungs to belt out an extremely profane word in _Hijiko_.

◁☽⃟☾▷

Back on the cliff, Ozpin and the rest of the faculty present were using the network of cameras and drones within the forest to keep an eye on the 40 prospects. With just a few button presses, he, and any other member of the faculty, were able to view almost any location in the forest, for safety and grading reasons.

The present students he was personally observing were a redheaded girl - one Pyrrha Nikos - and a blonde boy, Jaune Arc, who had no landing strategy and helplessly fell to the forest. In an act of hastily improvised heroism, it seems Pyrrha had impaled Jaune to a tree with a precise throw of her spear. Following saving the boy's life, the redheaded girl then promptly sought him out of her own accord, deliberately choosing him as her partner.

"The charity case. Ah, Ms. Nikos, your compassion still surprises me."

The headmaster manipulated his Scroll to load up an entirely separate section of the forest. On it, he saw a dark-haired Faunus strapped to a support exoskeleton and seemingly resting, her back on a tree. Around her, there was upheaved dirt and patches of torn up grass. The camera's microphone was close enough to Louve that it was able to pick up what she was saying.

_"—enervation, hypoxia, at least three bruised ribs, a broken collarbone, and probably a mild-to-moderate concussion—"_

"It seems Ms. Hyacinth's landing turned out to be less than graceful," he mused.

Glynda tapped her own Scroll, loading up the same view Ozpin was looking at.

"She's hurt. Should we put out the order to retrieve her?"

Ozpin shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. Her injuries aren't severe, and she seems like she's determined to press on."

"Tough girl, enduring all that without Aura."

Ozpin quietly took a sip from his hot cocoa, then sighed.

"I think the word you're looking for is stubborn, Professor Goodwytch."

The two shared a brief moment of quiet, while watching Louve on their Scrolls. After a few seconds, Glynda spoke again.

"Forgive me if this is out of line, Professor Ozpin, but allowing her to participate at all seems almost like a cruel joke. She's practically made of glass compared to the other candidates - even Ms. Schnee has an Aura almost ten times as strong as her. And Mr. Arc at least has that shield of his."

Ozpin said nothing in response, and went back to watching the stream. At the moment, the poor wolfgirl was bent over in agony, clutching her abdomen. The sheer volume of her yell caused some mild crackling over the Scroll's low-powered speakers, but the word she used was still perfectly audible.

_"Bakus'a!"_

Ozpin couldn't help but crack a smile as he leaned over to address Glynda.

"My knowledge of _Hijiko_ is rather limited, but I believe that word is something that one shouldn't utter in anything resembling polite company."

"What a _charming_ girl." Glynda deadpanned.

"You say that as if some of us weren't that colorful in our youths."

Glynda said nothing, and just glared at Ozpin in silence for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Atlesian Codex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/51279571) has a selected entry on topic(s) depicted within this historical archive. Please see the following for additional context: [Hijiman Profanities, Baku the Elder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/62538124)


	8. The Call of the Wild, Part 3

It was here, after the adrenaline spike finally left her, that Louve was able to take a moment to collect herself.

She brushed a rogue strand of her feral mane away from her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. 

The first thing she saw were the crimson crowns topping every fern, bush, and tree in the forest. It seemed out of place, but then, there were many things _out of place_ when it came to Remnant.

That reddish theme even extended to the tree's own lifeblood, and from where she stood Louve could see a blood-like hardened ichor pouring its way out of a nearby ashen tree trunk.

Apart from the gentle breeze causing an omnipresent static in her mind, the shrill cries of birds were the most notable things she could hear. 

She took a deep breath and sampled the clean forest air _—_ a far cry from the polluted Valen streets she was used to. It smelled of berries and mildew, and it made her quite comfortable. 

Up here was a section of the forest close to the nearby Academy _—_ an area reserved for young Huntsmen and Huntresses to practice their skills on the real thing.

 _The real thing,_ Louve mused.

The wolfgirl had never seen the ebony demons that she'd heard haunted every corner of her world up close. Nor did she really want to, for she intended on living as long as she could. And yet, she still found herself here. 

Angry at the world, and yet willing to protect it, these were rare traits indeed. 

But even Louve forgot sometimes, that she was not angry with the world.

Rather, she was more disappointed with it.

The wolfgirl lifted up her arm and tapped a globe icon on the far left side of it. The interface flashed, loading up a map of her world, her Remnant. 

Not a perfect map, by any means, and there was no way she could easily pinpoint her location... but maybe some old topographic scans would point her in the right direction.

Though she knew that there was a major supply line that cut through the forest, that was at least several klicks due south, so the temple could not be far from her.

_If I only had a GPS—_

_Wait, what the_ ra'kus alkato _is a GPS? Lord of light, I must have taken a harder hit than I thought._

◁☽⃟☾▷

Louve breathed in the clean forest air and sighed happily, flattening her fluffy ears against her head. 

Despite the clear and present danger that was surely here, as the instructors had said, she couldn't help but find herself oddly relaxed by the verdant surroundings. A dissonant serenity washed over her as she absorbed every frequency and background noise. 

And as she stood, taking in the surroundings, gears were spinning in her head. She knew vaguely what she had to do, and where she had to go.

_But the map didn't show exactly where the Temple was. Hopefully if I get accused of cheating later, I can justify it, as it really didn't give me a huge advantage._

The wolfgirl sighed one final time, then glanced back behind her, along the path she followed when she fell into the forest.

_The hard light cell._

Louve reached down and unclipped her staff from its loop, then depressed a switch in its grip. She immediately twirled it like a baton, and its tips flew outwards thanks to the centripetal force from the swift motion. 

In her hands was then a two-and-a-half meter long metal quarterstaff, made out of a lightweight alloy, but a cheaper one not made with expensive Gravity Dust.. Spiral patterns in the surface were the only indication of its collapsible nature, and she'd ensured the weapon had channels that she could funnel Dust into, should the need arise.

Happy to be in what felt like her native habitat, the Faunus girl balanced precariously on her _Valorous Lance_ and then set off back where she came, in search of her misbegotten power source.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find."

◁☽⃟☾▷

It was hard to find. 

The tiny little egg-shaped hard light Dust cell was proving impossible to see through the hundreds upon hundreds of red leaves covering the forest floor. One would think that a silver capsule would stand out in the crimson surroundings of the Forever Fall like a Beowulf in a Bazaar, but it was quickly becoming clear that the foliage was simply too thick to see such a tiny object.

_Didn't want to have to do this, but—_

She absorbed the details of the forest, memorizing the shape of every leaf and tree before her. She saw the red ichor leaking from the tree, the crimson and orange leaves stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Then Louve closed her eyes.

She trilled her lips quietly, an old concentration trick. It wasn't necessary to use her Semblance, but it did help clear her mind of any extraneous thoughts.

Her worries over where she was and whether she'd be able to find that cell washed away as the sounds of the forest came into full focus.

Louve's alert, fluffy ears were put on a swivel, twitching around and angling towards every distinct sound.

She opened her eyes. Her previously normal hazel hues had been suddenly overlaid in a brilliant glow of purple, even causing parts near her face to be lit in that same hue.

This was her Semblance, her _Oversight._

It wasn't just an aesthetic change. Louve's vision had erupted into a brilliant cacophony of colors and sensory inputs. The forest floor was covered in yellow and red bands, spiraling out seemingly in organic, confused fractals. The slightest movement from a worm was met with reddish energies filtering upwards from it. 

The entire vision was overwhelming to her, and she could barely pick anything out in this state.

 _Little rusty with_ Hypersight. _Gonna single out the narrow bands._

She concentrated for a moment and the forest's brilliant colors faded into a dark, violet-tinted, but still monochromatic spectrum.

_There._

She saw a tiny purple flare in the underbrush, the UV-reflective paint on her Cell she'd deliberately used to mark it for just such an occasion.

Her ears suddenly darted to the sides. A branch had just cracked behind her.

_No time to celebrate. Get ready._

Louve practically pounced onto the silver cartridge, sliding into the leaves and making her even more filthy with dirt.

Her eyes stopped glowing purple, as she rolled over, hastily sliding the cell into its place along her belt.

She shoved the Gravity Cell into a thigh pocket and harriedly barked out commands to her armor as she scrambled.

" _Lorica_! Mode! Armor! _Lorica_! Power!"

After a few beeps in confirmation, the exoskeleton flared to life, covering her torso and extremeties in a brilliant glowing blue fascimile of old-fashioned heavy plate armor of Vacuan design, suspended a mere inch from her body. The breastplate projected across her torso flickered in and out of existence dangerously.

Plate armor from some old storybooks were the best references she could find for the design, but it was good enough. Her head, of course, remained unprotected.

She pulled her goggles down, then sprung to her feet and readied her staff.

Across her vision, she saw status indicators and a field monitor flicker on. The upper left of her constrained vision held the words:

> **LORICA SOFTWARE AGENT v1.1**
> 
> **D0/DUST MODE ACTIVE**
> 
> **MODE: ARMOR**
> 
> **TOURNAMENT LOCK: FALSE**

While the upper right held the words:

> **INTEGRITY 100% | RA (60)**
> 
> **ERRORS FOUND**

The number marked "RA" fluctuated and flickered, owing to the armor's slightly battered state.

Ready to beat whatever Grimm showed its ugly mug into a pulp, she was surprised when she discovered that it was no ebony demon stalking her.

A familiar face stepped out of the bushes. The wolfgirl first saw the revolver strapped across her chest gleaming in the sunlight, then her eyes were drawn to the white and orange pirate's garb the woman was wearing.

Louve's eyes widened as her lips pulled even tighter into an intimidating grimace. This was the one person she _didn't_ want to see first.

The Claihn'hari girl scowled right back at Louve. 

"Ya've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

◁☽⃟☾▷

Louve depressed a button on her _Valorous Lance_ and collapsed it, then clipped it to her belt tersely, pushing past Tilly.

"I'm not happy about this either, but rules are rules."

"Says the cheater. Still got that crutch a' yers, I see. _Half-life._ "

Tilly jabbed an accusatory finger at the wolf's blue armor. Louve swatted it away and bared her fangs.

"It's no crutch, damn it. You sure you aren't just being a salty _do-ayn_ about me giving you a run for your money in that duel?"

"Hell no. Yer a two-bit fool who's outta her league, and a walkin' liability. What 'appens when yer batteries run out, lass?"

"What happens when your _Aura_ runs out, _y'bakun_?"

Louve looked back into Tilly's eyes, standing her ground and snarling. Her rival returned the challenge, sneering and glaring.

A low growling erupted from somewhere to the east. That, and the shuffling of underbrush hinted that the two Huntresses-in-training were not alone. 

Tilly swiftly drew her pistol with a practiced precision. "Just stay back and let me handle this, half-life." 

"Like _hell_ I will _._ " Louve spat back through her teeth.

Tilly stepped forward, cocking her head towards the direction of the noise. The wolfgirl's ears angled in the wind, sound from whatever nasty thing was on the other side of the treeline funnelling into them. Her eyes glowed purple as she searched for whatever was coming.

"Tilly." 

" _What?_ "

"Beowolves. Lots of 'em."

Tilly's eyes widened where she stood, her calm demeanor falling away. A moment later, she threw out an almost feral grin.

"Well now. This just got _interesting!_ "

"Not the way I'd put it!"

The shapes in her vision started to grow larger and larger. Louve's heart started to race, then she glanced at her rival. 

"Look. I don't like you. You don't like me. But I think you and I both know that the only chance we have to survive this is together."

Tilly glowered back at the wolfgirl, and she curled the side of her lip up, before spitting on the dry earth in front of her.

"Yeah, yeah, half-life. Lot of the bastards, though. You got a weapon?"

"Sort of, but not exactly."

"Yer crutch don't count, lass."

" _You'd be surprised_ , but that's not the point." Louve unclipped her quarterstaff from her waist, and reached into one of her pouches. Between her fingers a moment later was a vial of red Dust. 

For now, she just held it in her right hand, with her quarterstaff in her left hand.

Louve's tone was suddenly flippant and cocky. "Don't worry, _do-ayn_. I'll get us some _breathin' room._ "

She angled her neck, addressing her armor.

" _Lorica_ , mode Dome!"

The suit warbled and chirped in her ear. A sharp high beep, then a low one. _Specify._

"Everything!" 

A low beep, then a sharp higher one, the reverse of the former signal. _Acknowledged._

As primitive as the interface was, at the very least it was clear and obvious in even the most active soundscapes. One high pitched beep for capsule loading, two for a load error.

Three low-pitched beeps was the one signal she never wanted to hear _—_ _that_ meant 'fatal error'.

 _Lorica_ 's whined as it redistributed its power. The armor plating faded away, and the cyan glow in the conduits shunted into her right arm, which sparked and crackled with raw Dust energy.

Tilly shot a worried look at Louve. "Uh, should I be standin' this close, lass?"

"Actually, _yes!_ "

Grinning like a madwoman, Louve popped the cap on the Fire Dust, then leapt down, pounded her glowing fist into the earth. The energy in the arm brace surged outwards into a glowing ring of energy. Once the circle reached about 10 paces out, a cerulean barrier flashed into existence, rising up from the ground and meeting at a point directly above Louve, encapsulating the two Huntresses in a protective Hard Light dome. Outside of the dome was a ring of flames, lapping at the wolves and keeping them at bay for just a few precious moments.

Louve stood up, shaking her gloved hand out.

"Yowch. I really should figure out a better way to do that."

Tilly walked up to the barrier, looking at the small horde of Beowolves approaching on the other side. One of them, the closest, slashed at the shield, which pulsed and coursed with each hit, though for now it seemed the barrier held. A few others circled the perimeter of the shield, starting to encircle the two Huntresses.

Tilly glared angrily at Louve. "All ya've done is trap us in here like fish for those hungry assholes on the other side. That fire ain't gonna kill 'em, you know."

"Yes and no."

Louve shook out her hand a little more, clearly still reeling from the ground-pound.

"That gun of yours is laser, right?"

"Aye."

"Should work through the shield. Could never make it work with solid bullets. Computer can't adjust fast enough."

Tilly glanced out at the encircling beowolves, before spinning her revolver's cylinder to a white energy cell.

"You sure it'll work?"

Louve crossed her arms.

" _Kus la_ , but the alternative is standing our ground and getting mauled."

Tilly then lowered the barrel of _Airgead_ , pointing it to the ground. 

"Let's call that the backup plan." Tilly turned around, facing the largest Grimm. "Shootin' gallery, aye?"

Louve grinned at the pirate girl. "Top score, you'll get a prize."

Tilly cocked the hammer on her revolver back. "Long as the prize is getting outta here in one piece." 

◁☽⃟☾▷

Tilly's breathing slowed as she looked every beowulf down. Her alert, emerald eyes darted back and forth between potential targets. She still held the barrel of her gun towards the ground. 

"Uh, Tilly?"

Tilly closed her eyes. "Quiet, lass."

The pirate girl's body then seemed to shimmer and vibrate unstably, and a strange arcane hum erupted from her. Faster than any human or Faunus could reasonably move, Louve saw Tilly fire off a dozen ice blue laser blasts, in the space of a just a few seconds. 

She stopped shimmering, then collapsed to the ground, clearly enervated from the brief but potent exertion.

"What the hell was that?!" Louve shouted. 

"My _-_ My Semblance! Break it, 'alf life!"  
  
The wolfgirl's hazel eyes darted around, and she noticed that every one of the Beowolves surrounding them was now struggling against a mantle of ice that had suddenly crept up along their legs. They howled and snarled, momentarily pinned.

"Right! _Lorica,_ power!"

The dome shield swiftly faded out of existence, and Louve's armor stopped glowing.

Tilly rose to her feet, sheathed her pistol, and the two swiftly fled the slowly fading ring of fire, aiming to put as much distance between them as they could. 

One of the Grimm freed its leg with an enraged yank, and chased the women. Tilly fired off more lasers as they ran, this time of a red hue.  
  
With each impact, the Beowolf yelled in pain, and black smoke erupted from its hide.

Louve screamed at her armor, running as fast as her battered body could carry her.

" _Lorica_ , mode armor! _Lorica_ , power!"

Hard light armor shimmered and flickered back into existence as Louve turned, twirling her staff and watching flames engulf it.

She spun around with a precise pirouette, striking the massive Grimm in its throat with the conflagration.

It howled and clawed at the flames on the nape of its neck. The Fire Dust in her stave depleyed, Louve bounced to her feet, swiping at the beowolf's paws to try to knock it off balance. 

Tilly lined up more shots, blasting the wolf's exposed skull. Some of the beams refracted and glanced off of it, bolting off in random directions and igniting leaves.

The wolven engineer was unimpressed.

"Watch it, Claihn'hari!"

"I can't get a straight shot, girl!"

The Beowolf roared and backhanded Louve in the torso. A blue flare of light erupted from the impact site, but her armor seemed to hold.

Her footing, less so. 

She was knocked back off her feet, soaring almost 10 feet and landing on the ground with a loud thump. She choked on the forest air and rolled over, trying to push her way back to her feet.

The hard light fields around her torso flickered unsafely as she pushed her way back onto her feet. 

Another crystalline shatter from where all the beowolves were pinned, then another, and then another. More and more thundering gallops came from there by the moment, and the two Huntresses knew they were about to be outnumbered at least four to one.

A high pitched whistle from another direction, this time far removed from the fighting. A shell impacted the hide of one of the wolves, and bright green flames enveloped it swiftly. It roared in pain, before falling to the ground.

Black ash was carried aloft in the wind as Louve scurried away. The Grimm was nowhere in sight, and Louve presumed that it somehow had been killed by the shell in a single hit.

The two rivals looked to the source of the shot and both of them saw a grinning blonde, holding the largest blunderbuss either had seen.

Verdant waved. "Heya, sourpuss! Long time no see!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Atlesian Codex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/51279571) has a selected entry on topic(s) depicted within this historical archive. Please see the following for additional context: [Aura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/64090057)


	9. The Call of the Wild, Part 4

The calm ambience of the Everfall forest had suddenly come to life, filled with the sounds of explosions, the gnashing of teeth, and the roaring of monsters. Bullets and gunshots echoed between the trees, filling Louve's wolven ears with the symphony of survival.

Beacon Initiation, the boot camp for Ozpin's war. She knew it was always going to be like this. 

Louve angled her ears to the source of the sound, but she could not isolate the direction. Her muscles jolted into action.

The growing and snarling coming from the rapidly approaching Beowolves made her heart thunder with adrenaline, that old harrowing call to arms.

She turned towards Verdant, that blonde girl she slept next to at Beacon. 

"You got any more of those fire bomb thingies?"

Verdant pursed her lips then shoved her hand into a thigh pouch. 

"Nope, that was the only one I had! Pyreleafs, they're hard to come by. Can't use my Semblance to whip 'em up, neither."

"Fine." Louve snarled, facing the direction they came from. "Tilly?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, lass."

Verdant spoke up from behind the dedicated Huntresses. Both turned their heads to face her.

"Oh, before I forget—hey big man, over here!"

A massive wall of a man walked out of the nearby, verdant bushes. He had no weapons, save for a massive metal shield as large as his torso. Some of it was folded up inside, so Louve couldn't tell how tall it actually was. 

The same man she met, trailing after Tilly with her bags earlier. That same perfect 3-piece suit that Louve saw before still clad the man's body, and it hadn't even been damaged or a single speck of dirt had gotten on it.

"I ran into this dude earlier. Didn't say much—well, he didn't say anything at all, really."

Tilly's body froze solid and she gasped, running towards the massive man. 

"Inigo!"

The muscular bulwark smiled, and started walking over to Tilly in turn.

Verdant put a hand on her hip and shrugged. "That's his name, huh? You know each other?"

Tilly pounded a fist against Inigo's chest weakly, and the man didn't seem to move an inch or even flinch.

"When I couldn't find ye, I got all twisted up, you big galoot! I thought you 'ad gone an' died on me!"

Inigo said nothing, as he did, and only leaned down, then grabbed up the fiery Claihn'hari by the waist.

Before she could even resist or say anything, he had picked her up off the ground. To Louve's surprise, he pulled her into a hug, and she seemed to return his affections, relaxing in his grip. 

That was trust, real trust. Nothing like she'd seen or really known with humans before.

"Don't go an' do somethin' like that again! 's bad enough we ain't partners, ya mute goliath."

Louve heard a soft humming coming from the gentle giant. At least they were happy.

Eventually, the man let Tilly slide out of his grip, and she glanced over at her newfound partner. "Ye remember the wolf, right?"

Inigo nodded happily at Louve, smiling. She returned the grin.

"Nice to see you again, Inigo."

Louve poked her staff into the soil and leaned on it briefly, before looking off to where she heard the growling getting louder and closer.

"I ain't going to be the only wolf here in a moment. You in?"

Inigo nodded happily, giving a wistful look at his charge. 

Tilly exchanged a glance with her Inigo, then looked back at Louve. 

"That means 'aye, let's ruttin' go', obviously."

◁☽⃟☾▷

[ Inigo ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1r52Od3SGmI) banged a heavy fist against his shield and let out a guttural chant, almost beckoning the beasts to attack him. Louve was surprised to hear the classy brute's baritone, but also found herself oddly inspired by the man's improvised battle anthem and dissonant calm under fire.

Despite that, the clanging still thundered in Louve's ears and she regretted not wearing hearing protection for her more sensitive upper ones. The galloping hell-hounds drew ever closer, snapping twigs and branches with their powerful bodies.

The first Beowulf collided with his shield. Inigo's Aura flared into life and shimmered, growing thicker and bolder, almost as if holding him in place. He brought a swift knee to the beasts neck, knocking it off balance, then put his shield to his back quickly.

The beast reared up, and brought down its paws. Inigo caught them in his hands as his Aura flickered and shimmered. 

Still unbroken, earthen soil was pushed back as Inigo's Semblance fully kicked into action, holding him in place, and the Beowulf with him. He was only pushed back a feet or so, and the wolf snarled and howled in his face. 

Still unyielding, he brought his other knee to bear, striking the wolf in its chest and knocking it away from him to give him a brief moment of space.

The wolf roared as the rest of its pack closed in behind it, and Inigo drew his shield again. The Beowolf lunged.

Inigo's shield clicked, then clanged as he swept it across his chest, to the left, leaving the hound reeling.

The massive butler then leaped a bit, and brought the edge of the shield down onto its wounded neck, crushing it with all the weight he had.

The Beowulf turned to ashes and was just as quickly, swept up in the wind.

One of the wolf's friends lunged at Inigo, having caught up. He stood his ground again, ramming his shield into the earth.

That's when [ Tilly ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuCu_BLApUY) opened fire.

> _When the crash of the thunder is heard on the shore_ —
> 
> _Wake from your dreams, slumber no more!_

The beast snarled and clawed briefly at it, but even as he braced himself against the blows, he knew it'd work it's way around his defenses inevitably. 

> _When the wild Sabyrs cry in the eye of the storm,_
> 
> _Come follow me!_

Incendiary laser blasts bolted out from her _Airgead_ , striking the beast in its back. Arc after arc of scorching heat made the beast cry out, and it turned around to strike at her.

> _See the flashes of laser arcs slashing the sky_
> 
> _Bury your pride, and into battle ride!_
> 
> _Come follow me!_

The feral claihn'hari dodged out of the way of the first wild slash, but the second one connected, sending her flying. Inigo sharply gasped, but then saw the girl was fine and was slowly getting to her feet with a wild grin on her face. This is the fight she _lived_ for.

> _Light of sun! Radiance of moon! Sky, earth, and sea!_

Still trying to clamor to her feet, the wolven Grimm swept at her again, but this time Tilly reflexively activated her Semblance, bringing up her right arm in the space of a brief second and flicking her thumb against a control wire.

> _Hear my cry, carry on the wind!_

The Grimm's claws only found lodged themselves in a cyan-hued, holographic buckler shield, projected from a bracer mounted on her arm.

> _Shield me!_

The Beowulf almost looked confused for a second as it snarled and glanced away, then looked back at Tilly.

"Aye, beast." Tilly grinned, tightened her grip on her revolver, then heaved upwards with her shield.

Her thumb tugged the control wire again, then the shield swiftly flickered out of existence. The Beowulf flew back a few feet from the thrust and sudden disconnection, giving the redheaded Claihn'hari the space to take aim.

> _Across the waves, I comes, girl of the sea!_
> 
> _This fight will be over by tonight!_

The wolf snarled at her, and she rushed forward, slashing out with the sharp edge of the shield, cutting a gaping, bloodless wound into its neck. She did a swift, almost graceful pirouette in the air, coming back and slashing again from the other direction.

> _Across the waves, I comes, girl of the sea!_
> 
> _This fight will be over by tonight!_

When she landed to her feet, she held the arm with _Óir_ wrapped on it at the side of her dominant hand, ready to bring it back up of it struck again. From where she stood, she kept firing at the wound she made, over and over again, exploiting the beast's newfound weakness. 

> _Fighting the rich for the poor!_

Even without her Semblance, she could easily hit such a big target at this range. The beast fell pathetically to the floor mid-lunge, then turned to ash as its fallen brother did.

"That's whit ya get for ruttin' wit' a Primrose, ya mutt."

Tilly twirled her revolver, then shoved it back into its holster. Her flourish was clearly premature, though, as snarling erupted from her left when a third Beowolf entered the fray, lunging towards her.

Tilly swiftly moved to drew her weapon, but with her Aura drained from her Semblance, she seemed to not be quite fast enough. That was when [ Louve ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMyiBe4avFQ) raised her left gauntlet.

> _Don't fall, don't break, and you'll be okay!_

Luckily for her, another feral beast was leaping into action behind her.

> _Let go, lose control, but don't be afraid!_

" _Lorica_ , Q-S!"

> _Stand against the hurt, stand against the pain!_

A cerulean rectangular barrier shimmered from the ground as Louve's armor panels simultaneously flickered out of existence. The wall blocked the beast's initial surprise attack against her partner, and she swiftly moved to join the fray.

> _You can face yourself_ —
> 
> _When problems arise!_

Louve felt adrenaline coursing through her. She held her staff in her right hand, and flew through the air, swiftly rushing towards where the wolf was. 

> _You hear hope_ —

" _Lorica_ , Q-A!"

> _Calling through the battle cries!_

The barrier faded away just as the wolf started to move past it, and Louve's armor swiftly flickered back into existence around her chest and limbs.

> _Rise against the hate, rise against the lies!_

Eager to see her Faunus rival in action, Tilly took the moment to dodge away and allow her Aura to regenerate. 

> _When you face_ —

Her movements were almost that of a dancer's grace, but feral and primal. She bashed the ends of the staff along the earth, twirling and switching grips almost effortlessly. Fire rushed to its ends again, and Louve took a dual-handed stance and swung outward. 

> _Danger from all sides!_

An arc of fire flew out of her weapon, and the Beowulf was set ablaze, letting out a mournful howl as it flailed about at the new combatant. Louve spun back around, bashing the beast in its side, making it cry out in pain again.

Despite her meager blows, the wolf seemed to still be mostly unharmed. The wolf let out what sounded to be a hyena's laugh as the flames died down, then lunged for Louve, who scrambled to her feet and tried to flee from the beast.

That was when [ Verdant ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyyrD3ypp7k) slammed a black-tipped shell into the breech of her blunderbuss.

> _Hey you, baby blues_ —
> 
> _Show 'em whatcha gonna do!_

She calmly sauntered off in the direction of the conflict. Louve continued scrambling, flailing her fire-tipped staff about and trying to keep the beast at bay.

> _Maddening_ —
> 
> _And dressed in green_ —

Verdant laughed "Ah, this is better 'n therapy!"

> _Gonna break 'em all and make 'em bleed!_

She flicked her wrist up, locking the chamber against the wooden stock, and then took aim.

> _Was born in mire, I'm spittin' fire!_

She pulled the trigger, and a resounding thump echoed through the forest. The shell landed just in front of the shadow beast. Louve scrambled away at the sound, almost snarling in her panic.

> _Lost it all out there in the wild!_

The beast roared and chased after Louve. Verdant just calmly stepped closer and whipped out another shell from her bandolier, a more conventional round this time.

> _Say I'm no troublemaker_ —

She swayed her hips flippantly and giddily, like she was having the time of her life. A feral grin crossed her face, and the blonde raised her weapon.

> _But ya'all make me a liar!_

The Beowolf reached where the first shell was fired, and an explosion of writhing and tangling vines thrust out of the ground, lifting it into the air. 

> _I like the games we play!_

The blonde pulled the trigger. A crack of thunder echoed through the forest, and the wolf snarled and roared in the tangles.

> _When you're inside my veins!_

It broke free from the vines and sprinted towards her.

The survivalist just rolled out of the way, while the Grimm's momentum carried it just past her forward.

The woman sprang back to her feet, then flipped her weapon around and brought the wooden stock against its backside like a bat, knocking it over.

> _No, a little light don't kill the shadows!_

She twirled and flicked a switch on its reinforced barrel, and a thin blade popped out of the stock. 

> _If I go down in flames_ —

Barely an axe, but more than a knife, she leapt over the prone beast, slashing at its spine.

> _Then I'll just go away!_

The wolf roared in agony again. She landed on her feet on its other side, then swiftly slammed another conventional shell into the breech of _Rule of Nature_.

> _No, a little light don't kill the shadows!_

She brought a leg to bear, and stepped onto the beast's head, pinning it. It crawled and roared at the entrapment, then Verdant shoved the barrel of _Rule of Nature_ to its neck.

"Name's Verdant. These 'r my forests."

She pulled the trigger, and the beast dissolved into black ash. Her leg drifted down to the ground where the beast formerly laid.

Louve, still exhausted and on the ground, could only stare wide-eyed at the blonde Huntress.

"Thought you was just an herbalist, blondie."

"I'm a lotta things." Verdant giggled demurely, holding a closed fist to her lips. "How do you think people survive outside the walls of Vale, darling?"

◁☽⃟☾▷

The sun was beginning to set over the Emerald Forest. Birds were calling more fervently, trying to reunite with traveling mates. Crickets started to chirp. These ever-present natives of the Vale forests mercifully didn't have to compete with the shadowed monsters that also shared their habitat.

The Grimm only chased after humans.

As Verdant, Inigo, Louve, and Tilly all traveled together to the edge, they mercifully ran into no other Grimm. They occasionally heard gunshots or snarling, but none of them crossed their path, for reasons that weren't entirely clear.

They'd gotten lucky. 

After a while, the group had found their way to a clearing in the middle of the forest. Louve saw a stone, ancient-looking ruin.

Arranged in a semi-circle along the outer walls, were a series of podiums containing what looked to be—

_Chess pieces._

_Larger than normal._

Tilly gestured at the ruin with an open palm. "Ya think that might be the place, kids?"

"I bet it is." Louve pushed her way past Tilly. "And _don't_ call me a kid."

Tilly held up her hands. "Fine, whatever, 'alf-life."

Louve scoffed, then stepped into the middle of the broken circle, examining the pieces surrounding her. Almost all of them had been taken already. They were arranged in a specific order, clearly. A pair of each.

Her sharp, hazel eyes drifted from right to left, as she counted the missing and present. On her left, all the pedestals were empty. To her right, only a few black pieces remained.

The black monarchs had already been taken. Same with the bishops. What remained were the knights, the rooks, and the pawns.

Each a pair.

Louve approached one of the pawns, remembering what that strange, coffee-chugging teacher had said on the cliffside.

> _"Each of you will be sorted into a team today. You will be with these other three people for the entirety of your time here."_

Teams of four. Louve already knew about that. But the partner arrangement was news to her.

> _"The first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years."_

She glanced back at Tilly, who was lagging behind, that confident swagger in her waist always present.

> _"Each pair of partners will choose one and return to the top of the cliff. You will protect that item with your life, for it is your ticket into Beacon."_

"So." Louve spoke. "Tilly, we're kinda stuck together, I think?"

"Aye," she said. "Think that's clear now. World's got a knackered sense of irony, don't it?"

"So it does." Louve bit her lip and shuffled over to the left. 

She reached a finger out and twiddled with one of the black knights.

"A pair of each piece. Four-person teams. Doesn't take an engineer to figure out that the pairs who bring back the same pieces will be themselves paired up together."

Verdant and Inigo finally approach the clearing. Both of them were holding a small bundle of sticks and flowers. "Oh, ya found it! Nice job, guys. Was hopin' we wouldn't have ta spend the night out here, awful scary enough as it is out here."

"Aye, an' the wolf says that if we bring back th' same pieces, we'll be on the same team together. The lass' logic makes sense to me, I dunno about ye."

Verdant kneeled down, dropping her bundle of sticks to the ground. 

"So I guess we're kinda stuck with each other now?"

"Aye."

_This is just going to go in circles._

Without thinking, Louve grabbed the black knight and sauntered off in the direction of the cliff. Tilly opened her mouth to protest, but exchanged a wistful glance with Inigo.

The Claihn'hari then deftly grabbed the other black knight in her hand. She then stormed over to Inigo and Verdant, swinging the relic back and forth in her stride.

"But the alternative is washin' out, and I dinnae come this far to make a bags a' it now."

Tilly cocked her head to the side briefly, gesturing at Inigo. "And besides, the big fella's sworn to never leave my side."

Inigo smiled and bobbed his head fervently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprised Verdant's back hasn't snapped from how hard she's carrying everyone.  
>   
>  **The Team Fight**  
>  Sorry for smashing song lyrics in the middle of paragraphs. It just wouldn't feel like RWBY if there wasn't badass theme music playing during cool moments. I won't overuse it as I know some people don't like song fics, but I felt it apropos for their first fight together.  
>   
> As a bit of a nod to the presence of the music, Inigo's shield-banging is intended to represent his theme song, which is, fittingly, absent of lyrics. If you're reading this in the future, and the links in the fic are broken for one reason or another, here are their intended companion themes:  
>   
> \- Verdant: _Don't Stop the Devil_ , Dead Posey ( _Freak Show EP_ ), lyrics were altered slightly to suit.  
> \- Inigo: _Super Strength_ , Two Steps from Hell ( _Invincible_ )  
> \- Louve: _From All Sides (feat. Bronyfied)_ , Aviators ( _From All Sides_ )  
> \- Tilly: _Follow Me_ , Celtic Woman ( _Ancient Land_ ), lyrics were altered slightly to suit.  
>   
>  **Translation Convention**  
>  Another somewhat interesting thing about my (arguably more realistic) vision of Remnant is that the kingdoms have a variety of different languages, creating a language and cultural barrier that can make peace harder to sustain. _Valois_ is a rough analogue of French, and is primarily spoken in the Kingdom of Vale ( _Valois_ Name: _Royaume du Vala_.  
>   
> Thus, as this fic takes place in Vale, the characters are actually all mostly speaking in _Valois_. Translation software is highly advanced and capable of translating what a person is saying or documents on the fly, but the accuracy can sometimes leave a little to be despired perfect.  
>   
> Complicating this are the many Faunus tongues, like Louve's native _Hijiko_. The many Faunus dialects tend to confound linguists, even in the modern age of the 12th era, and most translation software makers don't really bother with supporting them for the most part. This is a point of contention for many faunus rights organizations, and really just hammers home their status as 'others' in many places.  
>   
> Some independent developers in Menagerie are working the problem, however.  
>   
> The language barrier and its implications, as well as how translation software works, will be more fully explored during the course of _While We Fall_. Here, it is mostly a background problem, and the characters' native _Valois_ is translated into perfect English for the benefit of the reader.


	10. Call of the Wild: Epilogue

With a delicate touch, Ozpin adjusted his glasses further back onto the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Glynda?"

"Nine teams have been registered so far. The first is R-W-B-Y. Pronounced 'Ruby'. They retrieved the White Knights, and they're comprised of Ruby Rose as team leader, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long."

"As I said before, I have a good feeling about them. Though I imagine it will take some time for them to learn to work together—especially Ms. Schnee and Ms. Rose."

Glynda continued, moving onto the next team.

"Then, J-N-P-R, pronounced 'Juniper'. They retrieved the White Rooks. Team leader is Jaune Arc, with Pyrrha Nikos as his partner. The other half is Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren."

"Sounds like a Mistrali name."

"It is. Looks like he hails from the Tero Kali Lowlands, pretty far outside of the Kingdom itself. Came here with Nora, his partner."

Ozpin looked down at his scroll, beholding the team's grinning—or in the case of Ren's, scowling—faces.

"Those four will grow to be tightly-knit, I think. What next?"

"C-R-D-L, pronounced 'Cardinal'. Comprised of—fittingly—Cardin Winchester as team leader, with his partner Russel Thrush. The other pair is Dove Bronzewing and Sky Lark. They brought back the Black Bishops."

"The Black Bishops, hmm? Not the greatest of omens. I have a feeling those four will be a handful."

"As all teenagers are." Glynda mused.

Ozpin could only let out an approving grunt at that. Warriors or not, children are still children.

"And next?"

"Silver, Cerulean, Amber, Lun _—_ Ozpin, must I run through all of this again? We _just_ finished talking about them."

"Oh, you know I'm getting somewhat old, Glynda. Memory's not what it once was, you know."

Glynda rolled her eyes.

"There's no need to be facetious, Ozpin. Let's get back on track—there's two last pairs that need to be dealt with."

 _Ah, those._ Ozpin thought.

"Yes, the Black Knights."

The old headmaster thumbed through his Scroll's controls, bringing up the profiles of the two pairs who retrieved the Relics in question.

"'Inigo Hellebore'—if that is his real name, partnered with Verdant Poultice. Tilly Primrose, partnered with Louve Hyacinth."

"A lot of cute, flower-themed names there—rather ironic, considering they're collectively the largest proverbial bundle of thorns and razors I've ever seen," Glynda asserted.

"I don't disagree, Glynda. But I have a feeling they just might surprise both of us. Let's start with the last one, Miss Hyacinth—definitely the most _complicated_ of the four."

The headmaster leaned back into his chair a little, taking his hot chocolate with him.

"She's suspicious, paranoid. Unstable, to say the least. A little, well, for lack of a better word, _feral_."

Ozma swirled his hot chocolate slightly.

"But if my long time on this world has taught me anything, it's that upbringing hardly makes the man. Or young lady, in this case."

Glynda thumbed through the large Scroll in her hands, bringing up the wolfgirl's public records.

"Hello, little wolf," she mused quietly.

After a moment, the middle-aged blonde woman swiped a finger across the surface of her Scroll, changing to the tab marked 'criminal history'. She began reading out loud the rather long sequence of reports and notes concerning the scrappy reprobate.

"Suspended from Emerald Academy for participating in a duel with unregistered equipment. Pretty straightforward to me, but then there's more."

Ozpin pushed his glasses forward back onto his nose and sighed.

"There's three other bookings on her record. Most are misdemeanors, but there's one involving a felony on there."

"If I read the report right, Ms. Hyacinth broke into a data archive downtown. Knocked out a night guard, disabled security—though not without tripping a silent alarm in the process - then proceeded to enter the building unlawfully."

Glynda tapped on her Scroll a few times, pulled up the relevant section of Louve's records and started to read through the linked police reports. 

"'Security camera footage from the datacenter shows suspect with an old-model Scroll, linked to the primary terminal of the archive.'"

The witchy middle-aged woman scrolled down, skimming the rest of the information. 

"Given the pattern of files the logs show her as accessing, police thought she was looking for something specific."

Glynda paused for a moment, scrolling down to the last section of the incident report.

"Whatever she _was_ looking for, it seems she wasn't able to find it before the police arrived.

"She was later apprehended while trying to climb a fence in a nearby alley. The investigating detective apparently never figured out exactly what she was looking for, nor did she ever come forward with it."

"I see. Remind me, what were the final charges?" Ozpin asked.

"One count aggravated assault, one count breaking and entering, and two counts intentional access of unauthorized computer systems to obtain access to secure information."

Glynda paused for a moment, scrolling further down the document.

"There's also a note in here saying something about 'unlicensed usage of copyrighted software' that wasn't _formally_ included in the charges, but presumably involved in the break-in."

Ozpin was privately amused at the police's inclusion of something as minor as software piracy in an official report also involving more serious crimes like assault and hacking, though as always, it didn't register on his plasticine face.

He swiped down on his own Scroll, looking at Louve's mugshot from the incident. The device displayed an oddly happy girl covered in dirt and soot, her hair no more well-kept back then than it was today.

Her mouth was curved upwards in a widely-stretched, borderline psychotic grin, baring her distinctive canines with a perverse sort of pride.

"So how does that grim story end, Miss Goodwytch?"

"Despite an attempt by the prosecution to have her tried as an adult, she was tried as a minor and sentenced to 500 hours of community service, which she completed a year after the incident."

"So she paid her debt to society, then."

"Even so, those are some very serious charges."

"From 2 years ago."

"Doesn't mean she's incapable of such things now."

"I know that. However, from our brief interaction, I received the distinct impression that she is proverbially chomping at the bit to prove herself, and maybe do things right - apply her rather unique talents to the protection of the people."

Ozpin paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

"Enough about Ms. Hyacinth. What about her partner?"

"If you couldn't tell by the last name, it's likely she's the heiress of the so-called Primrose Syndicate."

" _Oh,_ " Ozpin stated coldly.

"That other boy, Inigo, followed her here, as well. Don't know much about him. No official records. At least, none that aren't obviously fake.

"Thing is, his records at least look like they were done by a professional, compared to Mr. Arc. I still don't know what possessed you to let that boy into Beacon either, by the way."

The older blonde sighed.

"Anyway, there's even a few obviously faked misdemeanors on Mr. Hellebore's record, but, perhaps suspiciously, nothing as serious as what that Primrose girl might be responsible for."

Ozpin cocked an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh?"

Glynda tapped a few more buttons, loading up Tilly's criminal history.

"She's been booked by the Vale Police Department at least 10 times, and is suspected to be linked to everything from battery and burglary to Dust trafficking. Every single time, no charges were filed, and the case was dropped.

"Nothing on record within the last 6 months, but that doesn't mean much—she may just have gotten better at covering her tracks.

"A real clipping straight from the old Primrose stem, that one."

The stern disciplinarian finally lowered her Scroll and directly addressed Ozpin.

"If it were up to me, none of these people would have even stepped foot onto the airship."

"Then perhaps it's good that it _wasn't_ up to you. Even so, it would be prudent to keep a tight leash on all four. "

Ozpin took another sip of his hot chocolate.

"Coordinate with security, dorm managers and faculty. Quietly send out a private memo to make sure they're at least aware of these students' troublesome past, but make it clear they're not to receive any undue harassment. Staff are only to monitor them closer than they would the other students, and _quietly._ "

"So you're certain about this, then? I don't see anything good coming from putting all these miscreants and unknowns onto a team together.

"Even the herbalist, despite her lack of a criminal record, is a huge unknown quantity. It's one thing to have one or two people of questionable character on a team with otherwise more upstanding individuals - Miss Belladonna, for instance.

"But here, you're mixing Combustion Dust with _more_ Combustion Dust. I feel like that's only a recipe for trouble."

"They retrieved the Relics, Glynda. They're already in, really. Putting them all on the same team ensures they aren't making trouble separately elsewhere in the world, or here at the school."

"So, instead they can get into more significant trouble together."

Ozpin adjusted his glasses once more and laid his arms on his desk. He leaned forward, looking his stern co-worker in the eyes as he recounted a memory of his.

"You know, I seem to remember that there was a certain blonde telekinetic who attended Beacon some 30 years ago. And, if I am remembering correctly, she was sent to my office _quite_ often for disciplinary action. Do you think that little blonde girl was destined to forever keep making trouble for the authorities?"

The old blonde disciplinarian pursed her lips, her feathers somewhat ruffled.

"I might have been a little _raucous_ in my youth, Ozpin, but I don't remember spending the night in jail _four times_ before I'd even reached the age of 17. And that's _just_ Miss Hyacinth."

"Ignoring your borderline _insubordinate_ tone—assuming these four are able to learn restraint _and_ they don't kill each other, die or wash out, I think they'll all be willing to do whatever it takes to protect people. And I do mean _whatever it takes._ "

"So you're saying they can be—"

"Black knights." Ozpin interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"It was no accident that was the relic they retrieved. Their sordid backgrounds have left them capable, with training and guidance, of potentially operating beyond normal ethical constraints without the risk of falling to darkness than others who would be put in those same positions.

"They can take the fight to the most dangerous evils of this world using their own methods and tactics - methods and tactics that no upstanding Huntsmen would even _entertain_ the use of."

A brief moment of silence passed between the two allies.

"Well, perhaps with the exception of our mutual friend Qrow. But, even he is—at heart—a noble man." Ozpin added.

"That's a big gamble, recruiting monsters, Ozpin."

"No, these children are not monsters, but they can _think_ like monsters. They are outcasts, criminals and dissenters, forged by a world that has, in spite of all the work I have done over my lifetimes, seemingly started to forget the ideals of valor and heroism."

 _Again._

Ozpin fell quiet.

He reached towards his desk and took a sip of his hot chocolate before continuing on.

"I'm not saying we should go out and start recruiting every common thug on the street with an Aura, but when somebody willingly comes to us with a dark past, we do not—we _should_ not—turn them away."

"I suppose you make a few good points, Professor. What about leader assignment? I mean, who do you even pick between people _like_ _this_?"

"I know nothing about Inigo, but Ms. Hyacinth and Ms. Primrose should absolutely _not_ be given leadership. I feel team leader should fall to the least troubled member of the group."

"Verdant, then?"

"Indeed. I believe she has what it takes in terms of idealism and force of personality to be able to balance out the more chaotic temperaments of her new comrades. In order: Ms. Poultice, Mr. Hellebore, Ms. Hyacinth, then Ms. Primrose. Spelling: V-I-L-T. Pronunciation, 'Violet'."

"Continuing the flower theme," Glynda observed. "You know, it's funny how team names tend to just slide together so perfectly. Almost as if it's destiny for these kids to be put together."

"For Teams like RWBY and JNPR? I'd say yes. In the case of Team VILT, I'm not so sure yet. 

"Whether it be by fate or coincidence, you are right about one thing—we _are_ mixing some unstable and dangerous ingredients here. Whether the combination is able to stabilize or will just tear itself apart, that remains to be seen."

"At least you're admitting that."

Glynda tapped a few buttons on her Scroll. "Registration finalized. Ozpin, you also make it sound as if you've done this before. Has it worked?"

"Putting Team VILT together? I didn't give th—" Ozpin stopped himself mid-sentence, seemingly deciding to rephrase.

"Before now, I never gave people _like_ them the chance to try. Let me just assure you that other organizations in Remnant have done things like this, given criminals and reprobates a second chance to serve society. It works for them."

"So it's a first, a trial run." Glynda proceeded to walk towards the elevator, and called it up.

Before she left, she turned around and said one last thing to the headmaster.

"Well, for everyone else's sake, I hope you're right."

When the steel doors of the elevator started to slide closed, Ozpin removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his temples, his usual public decorum fading.

"I as well, Glynda. I as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so finally concludes the _Call of the Wild_ arc, after god knows how many IRL months.


	11. Team VILT: Breakdown and Details

I usually don't like pushing author's notes into an extra page, as it skews the wordcount, but with the previous chapter being the the first real fight scene in this story, I wanted to step outside of the story and take time to highlight some important notes about the characters' weapons, Semblances, etc.

You can feel free to skip this, it is entirely optional. They'll be explained in passing and nodded to throughout the story, during their interactions.

In addition, I've released two companion entries for the [ Atlesian Codex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859), one discussing my AU's complex explanation of [ Aura](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/64755142) (including the Aura levels Louve knows about right now) and another one on how [ Louve's Armor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/64755475) works, including how on earth she will be able to fairly and legally participate in tournaments and duels with the thing.

A note on conceptualization, as well: Long ago in the design process, I decided that Verdant and Louve were essentially the supports of the Team, Inigo is _obviously_ the tank, and Tilly is analogous to a ranged DPS. These considerations informed their characterization and abilities. Louve's exoskeleton, however, is surprisingly versatile and it will get more upgrades over the course of her long journey.

* * *

* * *

**Tilly's Semblance ( _Perfect Crime_ )**

Tilly's Semblance, _Perfect Crime_ looks like an overpowered, bog-standard bullet-time ability, but using it comes at a significant downside.

While her perception of time is slowed to 25% of normal, and her reflexes and movement speed is increased by almost 400%, she can only do this for a few seconds at most, and it drains her Aura _significantly_ , reducing her ability to take hits. 

Using it for _four seconds_ is enough to leave her _completely_ defenseless—while this gives her up to 16 extra seconds of relative time to take actions, a person's Aura in Remnant can take several _minutes_ to regenerate if completely depleted. Doing this for more than a second in the heat of battle is risky as hell, but for lining up one very important shot, it's practically unbeatable.

Originally, Tilly's Semblance was also going to be a utility Semblance, much like Verdant and Inigo. This eventually got scrapped, and she was given a proper and flashy, if impractical combat Semblance.

* * *

**Verdant's Semblance ( _Transorganisis_ )**

Verdant's Semblance, _Transorganisis_ is mostly a utility Semblance, allowing her to strip and convert organic matter into more useful and purer chemical components, including poisons and medicines. If given enough organic matter, she can also synthesize rarer compounds almost instinctually, just by knowing their composition.

Most of her "bullets" are pre-packaged discarding-sabot rounds, wrapped around seeds that are manufactured with her Semblance, but it takes time and she can't really do it quickly, leaving her stuck with whatever she enters the fight with. She usually has a variety of mostly support rounds, and her gun can also fire more conventional shells in a pinch.

* * *

**Inigo's Semblance ( _Ironclad_ )**

Despite his shield-banging being oddly motivational, Inigo's Semblance does not make him a Bard from the College of Valor. Instead, his Semblance is called _Ironclad_ , and it's somewhat similar to Elm Ederne's _Roots_ in that it essentially renders him immovable and anchored to the ground (with similar downsides), but he can move _very_ slowly with it.

> I should note that this was _not_ inspired by Elm Ederne, I came up with the idea for Inigo and his Semblance _months_ before Volume 7 aired. He's actually inspired by two things: the Hunker ability that commanders possess in _Supreme Commander 2_ and the Armor Lock ability from the _Halo_ franchise (never played, I just think the idea is cool.)

His Semblance slows him to a crawl when he uses it, but the upside is that he is functionally immovable when he uses it and his massive Aura pool allows him to be almost unkillable.

Unlike Tilly's Semblance, Inigo's Semblance also does not drain his Aura continuously, only requiring a minimum of 50% of his Aura pool remaining to use. As fights wear on, and he suffers increasing amounts of enervation and fatigue, he becomes a less capable fighter and loses access to his Semblance.

* * *

**Louve's Semblance ( _Oversight_ )  
**

Louve's Semblance, _Oversight_ , though used in the [ previous chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513388/chapters/64088932), has a few notes that weren't mentioned. Some of these details _were_ shown off, just not explained explicitly or given their names.

Probably the most complex and least intuitive Semblance on Team VILT to use, _Oversight_ is a pure utility Semblance that allows Louve to see across far more spectra than humans and even most faunus, revealing details that would be easily missed with the naked eye. By default, its _Hypersight_ form provides a combined false-color image of the combined UV, Visible, and Infrared light spectrums. This usually gives her a bit of a headache, though, and it's hard to identify what's what, as it's essentially a two-dimensional projection of a three-dimensional layer.

Instead, she can concentrate to isolate certain bands of the spectrum, essentially giving her selective infrared and UV vision when she needs it. The Grimm don't give off a heat signature, though, so the Infrared part of it is pretty much useless against them in the dark.

Much like Tilly's Semblance, it also slowly drains her Aura to use it, but she can maintain it for several minutes, at least, despite her stunted Aura.

When she gets better with it in the future, advanced applications of this Semblance include, but are not limited to, options for telescopic and microscopic vision, along with the option to see into the electromagnetic spectrum _beyond_ the UV, Visible, and Infrared spectrums, but this would give her a major headache if she tried it.

The mind isn't really meant to process that kind of information. Even the combined false-color image created by _Hypersight_ can be overwhelming.

When combined with her natural Night Vision, being a faunus that _has_ Night Vision, as well as paranoid, alert demeanor, Louve is actually surprisingly difficult to sneak up on.

Well, most of the time. She's also very distractible.

* * *

**Armor and Weapons**

For obvious reasons, Louve's armor is hilariously impractical in most combat situations against the Grimm, but it _does_ work. Her preference of staves as well, is because she took staff dancing lessons in her youth, and it just felt more natural. She's less practiced with staff combat forms, but she also learns and adapts quickly.

Her armor usually grants most parts of her body an _equivalent_ ASI of 60, but at the cost of it being granted to her by a machine that can break down, as well as consuming expensive cartridges of Hard Light Dust to operate. With a device called a Tournament Lock installed, it is severely restricted and capped, reducing the equivalent ASI to a much more reasonable 12.

For more on Louve's armor, including some notes about how it operates and how she built it, feel free to have a look at [ this entry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/64755475) of the Atlesian Codex.

* * *

**Weapon Names**

Louve's first exoskeleton here is called _Valorous Lorica_ , while her stave is called _Valorous Lance_. It should be noted that these are translated into English for the purposes of the fic. Their _Hijiko_ names are _Nimeisha Yorire_ and _Nimeisha Sarai_ , respectively.

Technically, the latter translates to _Valorous Staff_ rather than _Valorous Lance_ , but in _Valois,_ she calls it _Valorous Lance_ (or in-universe, _Lance Valeureuse_ ) simply because she thinks it sounds cooler.

Tilly's revolver is named _Airgid_ , which, in her native _Táirlaihn'h_ (itself a rough analogue of Gaelic), means _Silver_ , referencing its chromed parts. Her Hard Light bracer is called _Óir_ , meaning gold. It has multiple rotating energy cells, allowing it to swap on the fly between types of Dust laser blasts, including Ice, Fire (her favorite, and she has two chambers dedicated to it),

Verdant's single-shot blunderbuss is called _Rule of Nature_ . It's an exotic one-off, manufactured from salvaged wood from her original family home outside of Vale, and conforms to Hunter Order '[Blue Book](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513859/chapters/51280612)' 40mmS standards, the same shells used in Nora Valkyrie's _Magnhild_.

Inigo's shield doesn't have a name, but it's nonetheless very important to him. It has a springloaded release, is capable of folding into itself for convenient carry, and has a strap allowing to be worn along his back. It's similar to a riot shield, but almost twice the size and made entirely of two-inch thick Huntsman Steel, which is extremely expensive and hard to repair.

The front of the shield also has Dust channels, allowing it to be used for elementally-infused shield bashes.


	12. Scrapheap

The crowded auditorium seemed almost more packed than before, when the incoming class had congregated here. Students from all over the academy had apparently come to take a look at the fresh meat up for the slaughter. Louve's ears twisted and turned around her, ever alert for approaching humans. 

As before, that ivory man stepped up to the microphone, but mercifully there was no screeching reverb this time.

_Praise Baku, the_ ra'kus _sound people got their act together, it seems._

Professor Ozpin cleared his throat and began to address the collected student body.

"Initiation.

"The first step of your long journey is past you. You have come here in search of knowledge, and you have been granted access to the repository and aid within. To be freed of the burden I spoke of earlier. Today, you will be assigned into a team.

"The complete truth was not disclosed to you, for the relics you retrieved are not meaningless trinkets, though I presume at least the more astute of you may have already made a similar observation.

"For each pair of you that locked eyes in the forest, you will be assigned together into a team of four, according to the relics you retrived. The faculty has come together, approved these compositions, as well as the name, and will be your training and sparring group for the duration of your years here.

"First on our list—"

◁☽⃟☾▷

Time passed, and Louve was beginning to grow a little anxious. Teams were called to the front, given their names and praised for their accomplishments. Louve hated being spotlighted, it just made her terrified.

Ozpin seemed to be alternating between black and white, but beyond that, there was no particular order, nor rhyme or reason to the teams he called up. She occupied her anxious mind when off the field, by looking for patterns. Constantly looking for patterns.

She couldn't find any there, and that was driving her blood pressure up.

The applause constantly coming from around her only made her more anxious, and the humans clearly had no idea how it felt to have two pairs of very sensitive ears.

She privately cursed the fact that she'd left her frequency dampeners back home.

"And now Verdant Poultice, Inigo Hellebore, Louve Hyacinth—" 

Louve's heart suddenly raced when she heard her name called. She felt the thundering in her chest, the call to war, all over again.

"—and Tilly Primrose."

She rocked forward onto her instep, then tried to force her body to take that first step forward. As anxious as she was, this was a moment she had been waiting for for too long, and so, she wouldn't let her terror get in her way.

Though her heart was still racing the entire way up.

She pushed her way through the crowd with Verdant. Tilly shoot her annoyed glances from across the room. Inigo smiled. All four of them congregated to the side of the stadium, and she saw that man that met her in the police station, as stoic as ever.

He was waiting.

Verdant seemed to catch her new friend's anxieties, and laid a hand on her shoulder, startling her.

"Breathe, fangs."

"R— Right."

Louve took a breath. Then she took that first step up the stairs.

◁☽⃟☾▷

_You four retrieved the black knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Violet. Led by..._

_Verdant Poultice._

◁☽⃟☾▷

Sequestered in a warehouse on the edge of Vale, a red-headed man wearing a bowler hat was looking increasingly annoyed. The Valen wind creaked in, through little nooks and crannies. The creaking of metal groaned around him, and hushed voices from outside all distracted him. Smells from the nearby farms wafted in, the heavy musk of manure and pollen.

Yet, all of that washed away, for he had a Scroll up to his ear, and the voice on the other end didn't share his sense of humor.

Roman's scowl grew deeper and his brow grew more and more furrowed as he listened to Cinder.

"Don't force your deadlines on me, firebrand. I'm a wanted man, you want this done at all, we need to do this _quietly_."

_"I don't care about your excuses, Roman. I want_ results. **_My sponsor_** _wants results._

_"I don't care how many thugs you need to hire or how many pathetic little Dust shops you need to knock over. Get it done._

_"If I have to get involved with your side of the operation again, heads are going to roll._

_"Yours, specifically."_

Before he could even respond to her, the woman on the other end had already closed the comm link. Roman pulled the Scroll away from his ear and then slammed it down into the desk, sighing.

The threat was clear, if highly clichéd. But then, Cinder was a woman who relished in the subtle clichés of villainy, the little touches of sadism. Roman didn't share her drives, but the money was good, and she promised far more than that came from. 

But knocking over _From Dust Till Dawn_ was a mistake, it was too public, and they took too much. The VPD, as dumb as they were, were finally wising up. Made Junior and the _Xuè_ Triad he worked for very skittish.

Despite that, it would have gone fine; Cinder wouldn't have needed to get involved outside of staying by the getaway Bullhead and waiting, were it not for that little girl in the hood.

Junior had suddenly stonewalled him after that last mission, so Roman was forced to bring in the White Fang, but that was its own deal with the devil.

The jobs started getting tougher to fulfill. Cinder was starting to get more vicious, more demanding. The Fang wanted their own piece of the pie, and Roman was stuck between all of them, his head _conveniently_ on the chopping block.

If things went south, Old Torchwick would be the one probably left lying in the dirt.

Roman wanted out, but you know what they say—in for an inch, in for a mile. 

Or something like that.

_Damn it. I need a smoke._

Roman pulled a thick stogie out from the inside of his coat, and stuffed it in between his lips. The end of the thing tasted like dirt.

_Valois trash. I miss Mistrali cigars. Maybe I can get some in through the docks later._

He held up his custom-engraved lighter to the other end of the cigar, then flicked it into life, holding it there. 

As he was doing that, a White Fang approached him with a very noisy cart. Roman made a mental note to apply a can of oil to its wheels, then realized he wouldn't remember anyway. Even if he did, he wouldn't have the time.

Roman then held his lips tighter around the thing, and sucked in a few puffs of air, blowing it into the cigar to encourage it into conflagration.

_Fuel, air, heat. Easy recipe for fire. I wonder if that's how our red devil was made._

He internally chuckled a little at the joke, before turning to face the White Fang soldier that had approached him.

He reached into his coat, then pulled out a small handful of Lien in a few denominations, flipping them over so the soldier could see they were legitimate, with the encoded stripe intact.

Even in Vale, you couldn't stop the blockchain. Roman blamed Atlas for that, but at the same time it was a little bit of a blessing. Made counterfiting way harder, but they could steal money and use it to buy computers, try to solve the next cipher instead.

It paid the investment back, even if the hardware needed to be updated continuously. Lien mining was a legitimate enterprise, too.

Laundering was never this easy.

He flipped the cards back over, then the soldier took them.

"Open it," Roman demanded.

The thug did so, and then Roman's prize was revealed. A case filled with Dust crystals, one of many stolen from a shipment by train from Vacuo. Apparently one of the highest-ranking members of the Fang was involved in the theft.

Roman almost wanted to meet him, but then he decided that the sort of person that could pull something like this off, maybe was safer to steer clear of.

He picked up one of the crystals, contemplating it. Even just the one he held in his hand was worth ten thousand Lien. Inside the box, two million.

He glanced to the freedom fighter next to him.

"We're gonna need more men."

The White Fang nodded, then stepped away, back into the disgustingly-smelling night. 

The mascara-wearing, cane-wielding, cigar-shoving crook then flicked open his Scroll again, this time preparing to send a text message. He opened up his contact list, tapped the picture of the pink-and-brown haired girl, then flipped the device sideways.

He hated using the smaller keyboard.

* * *

**_Poli. Need you in Vale ASAP._ **

_Why? What's going on?_

**_Job I have is going sideways, I can feel it._ **

**_please just come._ **

_I always do._

**_Thank you._ **

* * *

Roman closed the phone up, then leaned against the desk, sighing.

_This deal was getting worse all the time._

◁☽⃟☾▷

Two hours later, the newfound Team VILT pushed their way outside of building 4 of Beacon, on the other side of the campus from the amphitheatre that Ozpin gave his last speech to them in.

Building 4, the L-shaped administration hub was where the uniform storage was, and was a rather drab and boring installation by all accounts—at least, by comparison with the more prestigious, opulent and well-decorated areas that were more frequented—yet its mundanity belied it being almost as ancient as the rest of the academy.

Headed by a rather tall, large-handed old man who spoke softly and yet oddly roughly, the storage warehouse held uniforms in all shapes and sizes, as well as any of the more mundane supplies a wayward Huntress-in-training would need—things like Scrolls, electronic styluses, ribbons, scrap cloth materials and even scissors.

Every uniform was standardized in sizing and manufactured off the academy, in the usual male and female pairs one would find at an institution like Beacon. What was notable, however, is that students could freely pick between them, choosing sizing and styles that suited their preferences or even gender identity.

If Team VILT had opted to do so, some of them could have chosen to wear suits _or_ skirts, so long as they stuck to the standard dress code (which was admittedly quite flexible on the idea of _accessories_ , as one caped crusader on campus, one Ruby Rose, could attest).

A few of them took the opportunity to break from the standard, though Verdant and Inigo had mostly stuck to the standard uniform layout.

Tilly was the most obnoxious-looking one. She had chosen half of the standard Beacon girl's ensemble of a maroon overcoat with gilded trim, white ruffled dress shirt, and beet red ribbon tie that seemed to drip down one's neck as if they had cut themselves shaving and were now forced to deal with a permanent stain on their shirt.

Covering her underthings, instead of a skirt like the other two girls on her team, was a pair of maroon dress slacks, matched with the jacket. Tilly flagrantly refused to wear combat skirts—not because she hated skirts, but because the fluffy ruffles and padding, intended to keep the underwear of a Huntress covered while in combat, tended to _chafe_ and bother her.

And being a combat academy, the only skirts the warehouse had, were, well, _combat skirts_.

Despite technically adhering to the dress code still, Tilly had also flagrantly violated color theory—in addition to all of the other laws she broke as casually as she breathed—in pairing her favorite orange scarf with the uniform, wrapping it around her neck.

Louve was unamused, and the clashing of colors actually bugged her far more than she would have wanted to admit.

"Tilly, that scarf clashes _so much_."

Tilly tugged outwards at her scarf.

"Whot, this? Aye, maybe."

"I think it looks _fine_ ," Verdant said. "It ain't like the whole thing is _avant garde_ anyways."

Tilly leaned over derisively, crossing her arms at Verdant as they stood there. "Ohh, lookit ye, lass, usin' the big words like a _real_ city girl—"

" _Please_ , ah've read one a' them fancy high-falutin' fashion magazines in my life, y'know."

For her part, Verdant had also gone with the standard girl's skirt, tie, and overcoat combination. Despite that, she had opted to also wear a pair of longer stockings that slinked up her thighs, with only the tiniest of gaps between the bottom of her skirt and the top of the stocking.

Surprisingly, the full girl's uniform seemed to suit her the best—with her golden locks pristinely tied back into a wavy ponytail, she looked like she truly _belonged_ in a uniform, unlike her much more roughly-hewn comrades.

Verdant just chuckled before changing the subject, jabbing a thumb at Inigo. He barely looked any different from his usual appearance, and looked more like a palette swap of himself than anything else. 

"Still, can't fer the life a' me figure out how in Remnant they had a suit big enough fer him."

The massive behemoth was wearing the standard Beacon boy's ensemble—an oversized, maroon blazer, a reddish, narrow dress tie, a navy blue, floral-patterned vest, and matching maroon dress slacks.

However, the stalwart, dark-skinned warden also had not been able to find a pair of red loafers, the standard dress shoes for boys at Beacon, in his size.

Inigo puffed out his chest, then closed his eyes and smiled. He reached up and satisfactorily adjusted his tie a little, shuffling his shoulders back and forth in mock dance.

"Yeah, guess yer right, big man. Lotsa folk come through here, guess they'd need to account for yer sizin'."

◁☽⃟☾▷

Verdant paused for a moment, bit her lip and rocked forward, looking over the permanently dour furball at the end of their little line.

Louve was also wearing the standard girl's uniform underneath her accessories, along with knee-high stockings that didn't crawl up her thighs like Verdant's own.

Despite that, she was probably the least standard of the four, with her choice of accessories being her standard leather utility belt, with all of the pockets stuffed full of tools and spare parts. Though she'd eshewed the larger side pouches she usually had (and were carrying them in her arms), her bandolier remained, strapped scross her chest.

Like Tilly, she'd taken the time to pull her scruffy, lavender-fringed mane back into a ponytail, but was clearly a little less practiced with doing that than Tilly or Verdant.

Bits of hair unevenly clumped, wrapped and coiled around each other close to the ribbon tie that she had co-opted to use to tie it back, at least until she could unpack and access her actual hair ties.

Wrapped around the base of her ponytail was the back strap of her standard goggles. The lenses rested on her forehead, and the computer of her _Lorica_ had been disconnected from them. In its place was a thin optical cable that ran down into her shirt, linking to her Scroll subtly, which was then stuffed into one of the unused pouches on the back of her belt.

Of course, in that same area, she still wore her fluffy, electronic emotion-responsive tail, that was presently softly wagging back and forth in the cold night air—signifying to Verdant, that despite her outward grumpiness, she was actually at least a little bit happy.

Verdant then stretched out and yawned, starting to strut off down the path towards Beacon Tower. 

"Welp, let's go an' find our dormroom, then, and get some rack. Been a long day."

Tilly started off next, followed closely by Inigo. "Aye, cheers to that, I'm right _knackered_."

Louve sighed, flattening her ears against her head. 

"If that means _tired_ , then I agree."

As she walked forward, Louve looked upwards with her hazel eyes, at the Beacon Tower in front of her. The great emerald-glowing transmission dishes almost didn't do justice to its critical role in ensuring communication between the kingdoms.

The sheer vastness of the sight almost made her dizzy.

Louve shivered in the night, then glanced over at her teammates as they walked by her side. Tilly, Verdant, Inigo.

Each one with their own story she didn't know. Each one with a troubled past or upbringing. Why they'd been put together, she couldn't even hazard a guess at. Seemed to be a bad idea. 

This eclectic group of young wanderers had pulled themselves off of the scrap heap they were supposed to be fated to be stuck on forever. Assembled, in their way, by the vanguards of fate, or perhaps someone else entirely was at work behind the scenes, manipulating events as they came. 

Team VILT weren't the real heroes. Every one of them knew that—even Verdant, despite being the most responsible and morally upright of the four, could never fill the shoes of somebody like Ruby Rose or Qrow Branwen.

◁☽⃟☾▷

As Professor Ozpin looked down on the four little dots walking to their dorm along the dimly lit path between building 4 and the Tower, he wondered which team it was that was out so late. 

Clearly, they'd just gotten their uniforms, at least. 

The incessant, constant ticking and whirring in his office never stopped. It reminded him of the ever-onwards flow of time, ticking inexorably onwards. It reminded him to never rest, for the mantle of responsibility he carried demanded he not. 

It reminded him that every moment he waited or stalled was another moment given freely to Salem.

He took the final sip of his hot chocolate and sighed.

"I've always loved orientation day," he said wistfully, to an empty room.

He turned around and laid the empty cup onto his desk, picking up his cane as he strode over to the elevator, past the great gears that were stuffed behind the side walls of his office.

"If you've traveled this far into my memories, Oscar—I'd like you to know that I believed and still believe that you, well, both _were_ and _will be_ the best of us."

He wearily pressed the call button, and blinked sleepily into the controls.

"And if I got it right this time, you'll also be the _last_ of us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oz be a sleepy lad, he don't know what he saying. Who's Oscar?  
>   
> I've had to fight my urges to avoid giving Tilly more dialogue than she already has. She's just so _fun_ to write for.  
>   
> I've gone back and made some important edits to the earlier chapters. This will hopefully make for more consistency between my modern style and the "style" I had when I was just starting out and picking up writing again.  
>   
> I also spent a lot of time integrating new world details and ironing plot wrinkles out because, to paraphrase the immortal words of Brian David Gilbert, _the God of plot bunnies has cursed me for my hubris **and my work is never finished.**_  
>   
>  **My Kingdom for a Lien**  
>  So the thing about the Lien in my verse is that it's roughly equivalent to around a dime in (2020, that might change) United States Dollars, or $1=Ⱡ10. It's also a blockchain e-currency, as stated by Roman.  
>   
> The various "denominations" are actually just different colors of the same card that can be pre-loaded with any amount. They're not designed for complete security, and can easily be used by just about anyone that possesses them, but the money does expire after a short time and is returned to the person's account if unused.  
>   
> Some people don't even carry the cards around at all, favoring quick one-time digital transactions from their Scroll, and this is gaining traction in many areas. They're also reusable and sturdier than paper money, so the Kingdoms don't have to constantly replace old warn out Lien bills.  
>   
> The buying value of the Lien is managed by an organization called the Inter-Kingdom Commerce Bureau (IKCB), headquartered on the island of Vytal, and does its best to fight inflation and currency crashes, by ensuring the algorithm used to introduce new currency into the system keeps pace with computer technology.  
>   
> It's a newer, post-war creation, created with input from all the kingdoms (and heavily bankrolled by Atlas) to ensure a global economy can easily be maintained between the kingdoms, and thus, peace, with it.  
>   
> Local currencies still exist, like the Valen _Valq_ , but are are slowly being subsumed by the all-encompassing Lien. Ironically, despite their initial support of it, Mistrali merchants have proven to be the most immovable, favoring their native _Caolt_ currency. Time will tell if they have the right of it.  
>   
> Also, as Roman says, despite the difficulty of "solving the next cipher", it does make money laundering and criminal transactions surprisingly easy as Lien mining is incredibly lucrative.


	13. Flower of War: Verdant's Story

_Far from the walls and the cities of mankind, endure and remember:_

_Respect the strength of nature—or be destroyed by it for your hubris..._

* * *

Verdant walked serenely along the Emerald River. Barefoot, as she often was outside of class, she stood still on a concrete path between their Dorm Hall and one of the training halls, positioned close to the south fork of the Emerald River.

The herbalist-huntress put her hands on her hips, then took in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air around her, tasting the pine and mildew that wafted in from the forest. 

She closed her eyes and took in the ambience and the smells heartily, as if savoring it like one would a delicious cheesecake. As much as Vale proper had always felt strange and alien to her, the Academy's lusher grounds at least felt and smelled like home.

She heard the chirping of birds, the cooing of owls, and the gentle, roiling sounds of the riverbank wash over her and felt her muscles relax almost instantly, reminded of her family's sleepy little cottage outside of Michem.

But then she abruptly tensed up and winced; remembering somewhat less happy things.

◁⚘▷

 **6 Years Prior  
** Living outside of the protection of the Kingdoms was always a hard life, filled with danger and horror; monsters that would slaughter you and yours instinctively, without even caring for what you could offer it in exchange.

The Grimm—creatures of darkness, forged out of hatred and horror; creatures built from the ground up to hunt and kill humans wherever they lived... uncontrollable, untameable. Indomitable. 

So strong and unstoppable the Grimm were that the society of Remnant had developed alongside such communal lines that the great Kingdoms were less a collection of subservient villages to one _somewhat_ larger city; but instead massive mega-cities, surrounded by tiny, barely populated villages. Out here, beyond the great walls, people struggle to get by—without soldiery and the constant presence of Huntsmen, the outer villages were constantly under the threat of Grimm.

Surprisingly, despite the inherent risk, a great many individuals still thought it wise to live outside the kingdoms—whether for reasons of avoiding oppressive laws, escaping prison time, a desire for self-determinism, or the simple desire to be left alone, these individuals are scarcely united by any one trait. 

Such was the choice made by one Edgar Poultice and his wife Ophelia. Out here, between the SDC company town of Michem and the edge of Vale, the red leaves of the Forever Fall Forest were the only protection that the family had, and they had a great deal to protect.

Verdant, a young blonde girl with green eyes and silky, braided ringlets clasped and pat her hands around the earthen, mildewy soil she had scooped up around the seed. For a moment, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest washing in. The birds, the wind flowing through the leaves—every single sound.

When she was done, she let go, and started brushing her filthy hands against her emerald-colored tunic.

"Oh, bless your heart..." Her mother, Ophelia—a blue-eyed woman with platinum blonde hair, done up in an elegant side plait—then swiftly grabbed her hands. "Don't ya dare, Verdant. That's _mighty_ hard to wash out."

She jabbed her thumb to a metal pole jutting out of the ground, with a faucet and a simple hand pump screwed to its top.

"Go an' do it right, darlin'."

"Aight, ma." 

The young blonde got up and walked to the pump, yanked its lever up and down a few times, and then opened the tap. Cool well water flooded out of the tap, and she started to wash her hands off in the stream.

"Once you're done, start planting the potatoes, will you?"

"Sure, sure!" Verdant said happily. 

She turned to her mother and smiled softly, though. "Ma, when will I get to plant th' Pyreflowers an' stuff like that?"

"When you're older, darlin'."

Verdant frowned. "Ah _am_ older!"

Her mother came up to her knees off the ground, sternly looking at her daughter.

"Pyre flowers are sensitive things, Verdant—same with the Stickweeds and the Barn-Roots. Lot more fickle n' potatoes er carrots, or dandelions..."

Her mother trailed off.

"Tell you what—" Ophelia started coming to her feet and dusting her hands off— "I'll let ya watch me this year, aight? Then maybe next year you can help me with th' plantin'."

"Thanks mama!" Verdant grinned openly as she turned the tap off.

"First, you gotta get them taters in th' ditch. Cut side down, so they can root proper, remember? Don't wanna have a repeat a' last year."

Verdant happily nodded, then kneeled back down in front of the potato trench. Her mother smiled brightly, then turned around, heading for a basket of seeds from last year's harvest. 

"Every year, we do this. We try to keep a lil' beauty in the world..."

◁⚘▷

A few hours later, the Poultice cabin's spartan kitchen had come to life with the sound of boiling water and the distinct clattering of knives against cutting boards as Ophelia and Verdant were preparing dinner. 

Meat reserves were running low, as Verdant's father, Edgar hadn't come back from his hunting trips recently with any success, so tonight was a fairly vegetable-laden affair, cabbage soup and a few fish the young lady of the house caught at the lake.

Out in the wild, everyone pulled their weight, even kids.

The light screen door flew open, and through it stepped a red-headed emerald-eyed man with a scruffy long mountainous beard, and a strong, broad frame, clad in a brown leather coat and simple blue jeans.

Ophelia turned to her husband as Verdant ran to her dad's arms. He knelt and hugged his baby girl, just happy to be safe and home.

"Heya, kiddo!" He glanced at his wife briefly, as she stood there with a spatula in hand. "What's good with my lady an' my lil leaflin'!"

"Dad! Mom let me help her plant the Pyre flowers!"

"Ooh," he replied smarmily. "Did she now?" 

"That I did!" Ophelia put a hand on her hip. "'course, she got the taters all done first."

Ophelia bit her lip and turned her eyes downwards, before looking back at her husband.

"Edgar," she said with a warm smile. "Ya was gone a _long_ while that time, I was _starting_ to get worried."

"Aw, much obliged fer yer concern, darlin', but naw, I'm fine."

Ophelia's eyes widened and lit up as she realized what that meant. 

"Ya can't mean to say—"

Edgar grinned ear-to-ear and nodded happily. "I do mean! Got a nice big 'un this year. 's a little older one, a doe caught out by her lonesome."

Verdant's eyes turned away sadly. She was hoping her dad was right, but the idea of it just filled her with profound sadness. 

"Probably had calfs what run off already, by the look a' her."

His wife smiled warmly in response. "Good, glad we didn't go an' take a lady away from her kiddos."

"Yeah, yeah... Hard 'nuff out there with the Grimm. Should last us the winter, too. She might just taste a little gamey, is all. Couldn't get her down afore she sprang off."

Verdant looked to her mom and just hugged her leg.

"You alright, sweetie?"

"Mmhm, just wanted a hug."

Ophelia then flitted her eyes up towards her husband.

"Speaking of...?"

Edgar coughed, clearing his throat.

"Saw a, ehm... Beowolf. Pretty distant, and only just one. Stopped at Michem on the way back to report it, that's what was takin' so long."

"Mmhm."

Ophelia's tone wasn't exactly what one would call optimistic or particularly confident.

"They keep pushin' closer an' closer to the village, Edgar. One day I'm mighty afeared that they'll find their way up here."

Edgar shook his head. "We didn't come out here thinkin' it'd be easy riding... we're ready if they come."

He glanced at the little blonde hugging her mom's waist. "All of us."

◁⚘▷

A week had passed between that night Edgar had come home late and then. It was raining, as it often did in the Forever Fall, and the gentle soothing rattle of the droplets on the window comforted the older, red-headed man. Despite that, he was a little on edge.

His green-eyed, blonde-haired daughter with her mother's pretty locks and his own green eyes had hardly touched a _certain_ section of her plate. 

"Eat yer veggies, Verdant," Edgar tersely chided.

"But ah don't wanna," she whined, putting a longer sound on the last 'a' than was really necessary. "They're gross an' slimy an' I perfer the taters and the game."

Ophelia dropped her fork on her plate and tensed up. " _Verdant._ "

Verdant's green eyes drifted over to her mother, and she tightened up a little sheepishly, curling into her seat.

"Yes, mama?"

"Do what your dad says."

"Yes, mama," she repeated, starting to stuff her face with the green beans on her plate.

Edgar huffed wistfully and stuffed another fork full of potatoes into his mouth. He looked over to his wife's plate, and beheld that his darling still had a hearty heap of potatoes on her plate. The deer steak was barely cut into, and even her vegetables were barely touched.

"Something on your mind, darlin'?"

Ophelia picked up her fork again as her eyes widened, suddenly aware she'd let her , as it were. 

"I was born _at_ night, not _last night_ , darlin'."

"Michem got hit, Edgar."

Edgar's eyes widened as his fork clattered to his plate. "Whole town?"

"Ahyep. Not much left. Ain't much left, but some folk survived an' they's headed to Vale in th' morning. Some are takin' a train north, to Bayonnes."

The ginger patriarch sighed. 

"And I'm expectin' you to say we oughta be with 'em."

"I am," came the terse but telling reply.

"We got th' Shelter, worse comes ta worse, y'know. Lotsa folks in Michem ain't got that." 

Grimm Shelter. Fancy words for a thick steel bunker the family built into the house. A common sight out here on the frontier. Theory was, that if you built a bunker thick enough and buried deep enough, the Grimm would lose the scent of the humans' emotions insude, but such a thing was expensive.

The one they had, Edgar and Ophelia had built themselves along with the house around them. 

Their daughter had gone from living in a tent, to a lean-to, to a proper cabin in just a few years. It was always their dream to live like this.

Maybe a foolish one. 

"I know, I know... Just. Once th' dark ones is done with the town, they're usually keen on getting everyone around it. Bigger places first, an' then dealing with the leftovers."

"We'll be fine. I'm a retired Huntsman, and what's underneath will keep you and the little one safe."

He ruffled Verdant's hair gently, careful to not mess it up too much. She giggled whimsically and snorted, while Edgar's wife relaxed a little into her seat.

"I guess, Edgar. I don't think yer wrong, but... I hope ya ain't."

At this, Edgar stood up and glanced at an old rifle-halberd that was leaning behind the front door of the cabin. An old piece, with a cannon tip shaped like a blunderbuss and yet almost as tall as he was. 

He called it _Beastcurse_. The wooden handle was mahogany, covered in beautiful floral designs hand-carved decades ago. 

"Me an' Beast, we got this, darlin'. Don't you worry none."

"One time, it was just me an' a hundred beowolves out there in the wild. Killed every last one a' em."

Ophelia rolled her eyes at her husband's tall tale. "As you've said a hundred times before, an' that number gets bigger every time ya tell it!"

Edgar just laughed, and the rest of the dinner was finished largely quietly, though with a brief interregnum where Ophelia told Verdant to get a pair of green beans out of her nose.

◁⚘▷

Edgar strolled through a clearing, _Beastcurse_ hefted over his shoulder, and a simple bloodied, burlap sack tied to its sharpened end. A satisfied smirk flashed over his face as the family's humble cabin finally entered view. 

Wider than it was long, at least from this perspective, with brown panelling on the sides. The garden to the front right, his view of which was shrouded by brambles lining the front. 

Then, a crunching of leaves to his right set his skin sparking, electrified with terror. He turned towards the source of the sound and was met with the face of a wolfish Grimm, blood dripping from between its teeth, soddening the earth below.

_Fuck._

The redheaded patriarch was quickly set into action, catapulting the sack of field-dressed rabbits into the wolf's face, before swiftly firing his blunderbuss to the ground, launching himself into the air. 

The wolf swung wildly, but a moment later, it was roaring in agony, having had _Beastcurse_ 's axe blade embedded deep into its shoulder. Edgar yanked the stock backwards, cleaving the beast's arm off as blood shot out into the air, only for the arm and the blood to turn to smoke a heartbeat later.

Edgar's blade followed through a bit too far, lodging itself in the ground. He was met by the beast's counterattack almost immediately, with its other, intact arm. 

A swipe to the man's side hit his Aura, and he was launched towards the home, landing in the very field of Pyre flowers that his wife had planted not a day before, on the left side of the garden.

Without a moment to rest, he stood to his feet, but in the corner of his eye, on the right, he saw an emerald dress, and beautiful reddish field boots. Surrounding the body was a pool of darkened earth—he knew what that meant.

_Ophelia._

He turned again, facing the coming Beowolf as it charged, haphazardly using its forward claw to gallop, tucking its hind legs with each rush. 

Edgar braced out his back foot, dragging an arc through the fertile earth as he brought his arms to his midsection, prepared to grapple with the beast personally.

Right before the beast hit, he glanced down at the trampled orange flowers lining his foot and smiled.

_No substitute fer true fire Dust, but... ya'all will do._

The beowulf lunged, and Edgar flattened himself against his wife's garden, falling to his stomach. 

Such a measure would normally be suicide, but the beowolf was already wounded, and he had a plan---Edgar clasped a number of dried out Pyre leaves from last year in his hand, crushed them, and felt the fire within be unleashed into his palm.

It scorched against his Aura, which flickered in his emerald sheen. Embers in his hand flared into a greater flame as he turned over and swungly wildly upwards, roaring with grief. 

The beast's neck caught on fire. The beowolf screamed in agony as be brought his off-hand to bear, flaming with a second botanical reprisal. 

Again, the beowolf howled, again and again as the flames took hold.

Temporarily distracted and flailing about in its confused pain, the beowolf couldn't respond to the quick departure of its opponent, flicking its head and sending still-burning charred particles of ground-up Pyre petals to the thatched roof atop the cabin, where another flame was sparked.

Perhaps it was a mistake to stick to "traditional" methods of construction.

Edgar's hand finally hefted his weapon out of the dirt, and he ran back to where the beast was flailing, only to see the smoke rising from his home's roof.

He roared in rage and lunged at the beast, praying that his daughter had made it to the bunker, at the very least.

Though in a few minutes, he knew it wouldn't matter.

◁⚘▷

 _Beastcurse_ was impaled into the wolf's chest a breath later, and black smoke billowed out into the garden, clouding the dirt and his wife's body, before dissipating quickly.

Then, Edgar turned his attention to the front door. 

The flames were spreading. Without thinking, Edgar entered the conflagration, as more and more Pyre petal-induced flames consumed the space.

Edgar raced past the screen door and felt the rancid heat against his skin. The fiery noose closed in as he started coughing.

He pulled out a rag from his field pouch, soaked it through with his canteen, then wrapped it around his face, tying the back as tightly as he could. 

He threw a smoldering, handmade rug off to the side with his boot, then shook off a few cinders that had hit it. Underneath was a trapdoor, held shut by nothing. 

His hand hooked around the cast-iron D-ring that had been haphazardly screwed into the surface, and then lifted upwards, revealing another cast-iron vault hatch. He yanked the lever with every scrap of strength he can muster, and then belted out a desperate cry down into the tunnel.

"Leafling?! Verdant?!"

"Down here! Pa?!"

"Yep! Get on up here, quick as you can!" 

From where he was leaning into the hole, Edgar could see the blonde locks of his daughter coming a little closer as she tentatively started crawling up the rickety steel bars of the ladder leading down into the shelter.

"Where's mama?!"

Edgar's eyes closed as he bit his lip, trying to hold back his grief just a little bit longer. 

"She's, uh, she's alright, leafling! Just gotten to safety, is all!"

"Awwight," came the anxious reply. 

◁⚘▷

Verdant had finally reached the last rung, but the sound of metal scraping against concrete suddenly filled Edgar's ears. His heart thundered as his baby girl's foot lost purchase against one of the rungs, and she started dangling for dear life.

She screamed, and he moved his arm into the tunnel. 

"Grab muh arm, baby! Just take it, I'll pull ya the rest of the way!"  
  
Verdant swung her own arm, taking hold of her father's hand. 

Then he felt it. Numbness in his hand, growing up and up.

He looked at the extremity, and he saw that Verdant's own Aura was shimmering, and his arm increasingly turning a shade of ebony that was inhuman.

Edgar roared in agony, and his baby girl almost let go, believing herself to be somehow responsible. Instead, he grabbed on with his other hand and yanked her out, pressing through the agony.

He used his feet and back, roaring as he pulled on her. He fell backwards to the wooden floor, narrowly dodging the enroaching flames for the moment. Verdant rested on his broad chest as she sobbed, tears soaking her father's tunic through.

"Pa! Ah'm so sorry, pa! I— I didn't do it—"

From where he lied on the floor, Edgar lifted his necrotic, blackened hand to his face and simply laughed. 

"Muh baby girl's got a Semblance, and it's a bit a' a killer, ain't it..."

Tears streamed down Verdant's face. "Ah _what_ now—?!"

Edgar clawed his hand into a fist as he rose to his feet. "Still can use it, at least."

"Now, c'mon leafling. We'll get you outta here best as we can."

Verdant wrapped her hand around her papa's as her eyes darted from ember to ember, flame to flame. She lifted her other hand up, grasping her upper forearm. 

Her dad let go and walked back into the bedroom he and her mother shared, and Verdant heard the sound of scraping against wood. She followed him, watching from the door as a plume of fire spread across the ceiling.

She coughed and held her tunic to her mouth, muffling her words as she spoke.

Verdant jabbed out a finger at her dad's hand. "Pa, what's that?"

 _That_ being a jet black, round object that looked perfectly suited for a human's hand, with four ergonomic depressions and a pinpoint hole on the side that was facing Verdant.

"Nothin," Edgar said as he quickly stuffed it into his field pack.

"Jus' a gift from a friend I didn't wanna leave behind."

He came back to his feet, and took his daughter's hand once more. She smiled, feeling safer in his presence.

Edgar's eyes "Need ya to just keep on lookin' forward, darlin'. That's how the Grimm get ya, hear? "

Verdant looked confused at this, as she raised an eyebrow. Edgar knelt before her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"It's mighty important. Stand on my right side. Don't look anywheres but ahead. Alright?"

"Awight, pa. Ah will..."

◁⚘▷

In the present, Verdant thought back to something her mother always said to her when planting season came around every other year, and during the harsher winters of Northern Vale.

_"No matter how hard things get, no matter what you find yourself doing, always do your best to keep a little beauty in the world."_

Verdant sighed. 

_I will, mama._

The blonde-haired herbalist relaxed again, having lost the memories for the moment. She turned to the west, to the ornate spires and architecture that dotted the Vale City skyline, then exhaled, putting her hands on her waist.

_I hope dad's gettin' on without me alright._

A familiar Claihn'hari accent from behind her drew her attention, and she angled her blue eyes over to the source.

"Aye, big scary mutt in a magic suit a' armor. Take 'at off and what are ye?!"

Verdant sighed outwardly. 

_Breaktime's over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive. Just having a lot of mental health issues in the way. Releases for _Before the Whims of Fate_ will be broken up by these vignettes every once in a while, and are more or less the equivalent of the trailers for these characters, hitting on their backstories and drives.  
>   
> As a forewarning, most of these characters come from really awful backgrounds, including their most well-balanced member, their leader. These are not going to be completely happy chapters.  
>   
> Yes, this is filler content while I get the timeline of that other story caught up, at which point I'll be alternating between them. _While We Fall_ releases are set to resume eventually, as well, but will likely be sporadic until these other two stories are caught up.  
>   
> I would just prefer to keep all these fics around the same timeline, as they have crossover moments and the characters even share a few planned stories in the future. Hopefully I'll get there, it's really cool :)  
>   
> Next up will be Yang's prologue for _[Before the Whims of Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930071)_. I wanted to release it tomorrow, but that's looking unlikely. I am _half-ish_ done with it.  
>   
> At the very latest, next week.  
>   
>  **The Black Hands**  
>  Edgar is a survivalist and a former trained Huntsman. He never really wanted Verdant to follow in his footsteps, but he understands that drive to adventure. Verdant honors both of her parents, with a deceptively traditional blunderbuss styled weapon, but in her case it's usable as an axe instead of a polearm; and she also supplements her combat skill with botany and herbalism-related abilities, generated from her _Transorganisis_.  
>   
> The dark side of her _Transorganisis_ is also shown here, and the biggest limiting factor on the ability is in fact her fear of having a repeat of that incident. The power to manipulate organic matter on an extremely low level is not only insanely powerful in the right hands, but also exceedingly dangerous in the wrong hands.  
>   
> Semblances can clearly be triggered and modified to an extent by emotionality; and I am almost certain there are a few stories like this in Remnant, where a future Hunter unintentionally discovers their special snowflake power through tragedy. Perhaps that's the true story behind a few notable villains.  
>   
> Note: I wrote that last sentence a day before watching episode six of volume 8. The timing was amusing.  
>   
>  **Pyre Flowers**  
>  Pyre Flowers are legitimately not a reference to Mario, I promise. Botanically speaking, they're similar to red roses but with a distinct orange bioluminescent glow on the tips of the leaves, indicating the presence of trace amounts of Fire Dust. This makes them useful from a resource perspective, as they are (supposedly) one of the few ways of sourcing any kind of Dust in a sustainable way.  
>   
> Their petals specifically are quite valuable, but some Fire Dust can be extracted from the other parts of the flower, with a little more refinement. There are no known plants that biogenerate any kind of Dust like this, and the mechanism behind its generation is still under active study by scientists.  
>   
> The prevailing theory is centered around speculation surrounding its very fickle habitat and soil pH preferences, as they are not found outside of specific soil composition found in the Kingdom of Vale, near the Forever Fall on the coast.  
>   
> A Valen botanist by the name of Rosacea Rhinewood has speculated that it's possible that it does not actually create the Fire Dust it stores within, but instead draws trace amounts of it out of the soil.  
>   
> Further study is still required to confirm the theory, but early results are promising.


End file.
